


Twilight Opportunities (To Think Where We Land)

by dasakuryo



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasakuryo/pseuds/dasakuryo
Summary: Rogue One is sent to Albarrio sector to gather intelligence on the Empire, and convince independent rebel cells to join the Rebellion. Little does the council know that these missions will stir Cassian's emotional turmoil, bringing back memories and fears he's kept locked away for years. There are realities Cassian doesn't want to dwell on, not when he can't really imagine an encouraging future past the war. There are sides of the conflict that remain in the shadows, far greater than two mere opposing forces.Out of worry, Jyn will try to help, growing even closer to Cassian. She will stare at the wounds and scars of a life marked by war, leaving the door open for him to stare right back into her past. The bond they've shared since Scarif will evolve as they navigate through their feelings and missions, trying to figure out where they stand and what to make of the future.





	1. I lost faith in the yesterdays I was once

**Author's Note:**

> This work includes dialogue lines in Spanish, which contents are explained and addressed by the characters in the prose so as not to lose meaning. However, I came to know there was a way to add hovering notes so I've added the translations for Spanish, provided you hover over the line you should be able to see it ;)

"Let me do the talking," Cassian stilted as they walked down the ramp of the shuttle.

Jyn would have wanted to ask Cassian why exactly, considering Mon Mothma herself had trusted both of them with the negotiations. She bit her lips and nodded, conscious of his gaze lingering on her -besides, he trusted Cassian's judgement better than the Council's. She spruced her leather jacket up.

They were greeted by a clearing, dimly-lit by the sunlight that peered through thick vegetation. The air felt thick and moist. Jyn could taste both the freshness and rottenness of the jungle on her tongue, living and dying around her, with every intake of breath. The ground, unbelievably red, cracked and crunched beneath her heavy boots. She was thankful they'd arrived earlier than expected.... Jyn'd never been to this sector of the galaxy before, and naturally she'd never set foot on this particular planet.

The contrasts between the soil and the foliage were mesmerizing, various shades of red against shades of green, scattered splashes of brighter colours. And although the heaviness of the weather echoed Yavin 4 too much for her liking, she was glad she'd got the chance to share these missions in Albarrio sector with Cassian. After all that had happened on Scarif, even afterwards during their treatments and recovery, Jyn was grateful their missions didn't entail a highly likelihood of potential death.

Something about how Draven had announced Rogue One was meant to conduct those negotiations and recruitment missions, gave her the feeling that someone had interceded for that to happen. Perhaps she'd imagined the softness on Mon Mothma's gaze, perhaps the woman had remained stoic throughout the whole briefing, perhaps she hadn't looked in the direction of the Rogue One crew—

Either way, she couldn't help her lips curling in satisfaction at Draven's frustration. The orders he'd given Cassian on the medbay, right after one of his first immersions in the bacta tank, were still fresh on her mind. She remembered the coldness of his voice, the inherent emotional detachment of his gestures, remembered the veiled indifference he'd addressed Cassian with. It all had felt like a lingering threat, a reminder to where his priorities should lay, a reminder to whom Cassian owed his loyalty within the Alliance.

Bodhi waved them goodbye from the viewport, though Jyn wasn't sure Cassian had noticed. She smiled, and waved back before diligently following him deeper into the jungle, trekking down the trail of trudged red gravel and clay.

"Everything okay?" she asked, now walking by his side.

She heard his heavy sigh, waited. The crunch of their steps on the ground, the ruffle of leaves, the distant chirping of animals was the only thing filling the silence. Jyn took a deep breath and re-focused her gaze back to the trail ahead, instead of stealing glances of Cassian out of the corner of her eye.

He seemed troubled. There was heaviness to that vacant, inscrutable expression of his, something that was breaking through that well-constructed emotionless stony appearance. She noticed as much, and perhaps the fact K-2SO had bluntly asked Cassian if he was in need of a memory banks wipe-out had also helped to increase her concerns. There was definitely something about this mission that he'd not disclosed to any of them... Jyn had a hunch it wasn't precisely an aspect that the mission entailed; he'd never jeopardize a mission. It had to be something personal that was taking a toll on him, an emotional toll.

"We should be arriving to the meeting point shortly," Cassian said, Jyn heard the faint sound of the portable Holo projector shutting off.

Jyn nodded. She figured it'd be best to not press on the matter any further.

 

“No estamos interesados en unirnos a la Alianza.”

As soon as their interlocutor opened his mouth, Jyn understood Cassian's request. To her ears, it sounded an awful lot like Festian. Her studies were severely lacking in that language branch, to the point she could barely recognize some isolated words. From the tone and the man's squared shoulders, however, she gathered these negotiations hadn't started off on the right foot.

She looked sideways, stealing a glance at Cassian. She saw him squaring his shoulders, but instead of looming large his stance seemed conciliatory, rather than being coercive. His usual inscrutable expression seemed clouded, troubled, judging by the way his gaze wasn't as sharp as usual, and seemed to slacken.

Jyn took a deep breath an eyed Cassian, fighting down the urge to ask the rebel leader to repeat in Basic. Something told her that things would really go to waste if she did. She breathed again, trying to calm the storm coming at her in her mind, urging her to intervene.

She trusted Cassian's judgement.

 

Cassian had considered the possibility of refusal being the first answer he'd get. He didn't need any intel from any informant to know as much. His voice was calmed, levelled, when he answered, “entiendo que es arriesgado pero—”

He couldn't finish that sentence, for the man promptly interrupted with a harsher voice, "no confiamos en la Alianza. No hay garantías,"” his eyes narrowed, piercing him with his glare.

Cassian knew this was likely to happen, he'd warned Mon Mothma when she first suggested these missions. The fact that Albarrio's inhabitants had no sympathy for the Empire, the fact there were some small insurgent independent rebel cells scattered across the system, didn't mean they would sympathize with the Alliance just because they were withstanding the Empire. Like the man had said, there were no true safeguards, especially not there were imperial control was stronger.

“La Alianza puede enviar tropas de apoyo, ayudar a la milicia organizada. Tendrían más oportunidades de hacerle frente,” he tried another angle. The Alliance could provide these people with resources so they could fight off the Empire occupation; reclaim the territories that have been seized by the Empire. That would be a start to dispel their doubts and show what the Rebel Alliance stood for.

But the man folded his arms over his chest.

“Tu adorada Alianza son los pedazos de la República que el Imperio no pudo aplastar,” this time, there was unmistakable snide and utter disdain in his voice, “a la República jamás le interesó esta zona del Borde Exterior, excepto cuando podían aprovecharse de nosotros. Por años y años se llevaron todo al Núcleo, hasta que nos unimos a la Confederación," any remaining restrain to his anger this man had had, was quickly vanishing. The last sentence had sounded more than a hiss than an actual utterance, “no haría demasiada diferencia para nosotros, nunca la hubo. Al menos, el Imperio Galáctico no disfraza sus intenciones con mentiras apoyados por el Senado.”

And as the man spoke and he thought about arguments to effectively manage a riposte of that statement, Cassian felt his muscles stiffening. A stab of pain swept through his jaw.

Because the man was _right_. The majority of the High Command was made up of people from the Core; some of them had been politicians and senators in office during the Republic Senate. Not only was that true, but also the Republic had been known for ignoring issues inherent to the Outer Rim territories ever since it had been established... unless they could get the upper hand out of a situation, of course.

It was no secret that the Arkanis sector, and specifically the Tatoo system, had been always controlled by Hutts. Even in its most glorious days, even when arguing the Republic was to protect democracy and freedom for every being in the galaxy... neither the Republic, nor the Galactic Senate, had done anything to bring an end to the slavery system that Hutts profited from. A system which was still pretty much alive, up, and running. The Holos and archives Cassian had been able to lay his hands on were pretty clear why: the Hutt Clan was too powerful an organization to have as an enemy, particularly considering they controlled important routes and runs vital to ship resources from the Outer Rim worlds all the way to the Core.

It seemed that, for the Republic and its Senate, some worlds were worthier of freedom than others, some _people_ were worthier of freedom than others—

Safeguarding _interests_ and _power_ was more important than safeguarding rights.

The people of the Outer Rim, like those on Albarrio and Atrivis sectors, knew this _all too well_. They'd first-hand experience. There was a reason why many planets of those sectors had been aligned with the Confederacy of Independent systems, and why most of those had in turn adhere to Senator Mina Bonteri ideals of remaining independent and autonomous, free of any ties that the Republic may use to coerce them into conflicts.

As far as these people were concerned, Republic's interventionism and the Empire's occupation were pretty much the _same_.

And how could Cassian argue when the man had put into words some of his _own_ worst fears? The man had voiced the very same threats that loomed in the back of his mind whenever he dared to think about the end of the war. The man had voiced the issues that would resurface after, if ever, the Alliance succeeded in overthrowing the Empire.

“Queremos que recuperen su—” Cassian tried again, but stopped as soon as he heard the dry scornful laugh. There was a sudden crunch. His arm flew to his side, his hand to Jyn's arm, gently grabbing and stopping her from stepping in.

“Sí, claro, supongo que para que luego les sea más fácil,” the man's tone was mocking. Cassian couldn't really blame him for believing the Alliance would later take advantage of their presence there. He couldn't really blame him for believing the Alliance would want to interpose themselves once the war was over, like the Republic had done.

He had warned Mon Mothma this was a hopeless case, a battle they'd long lost before even starting it. The Alliance, like the Republic, had been too late. They had no true leverage and no guarantees whatsoever to back up and ground their promises. These people had been listened about building air castles for far too long to take it at face value.

Cassian tilted his head in a brief nod. He felt his jacket pocket, took a data-card and handed it over. He held the man's gaze, staring at him right in the eye in spite of his frown and mouth set in hard line. He waited.

Somehow, his other hand was still hovering Jyn's arm. His palm itched at the brush of leather on skin; he gave a gentle, quick squeeze. A muscle in the man's face twitched as his gaze diverted towards Jyn for a fleeting second. Cassian swallowed, suddenly too conscious that there was room for a dangerous misreading. His mind raced, his grab on Jyn's arm turning laxer, muscles tensing. He visualized the butt of his blaster in the holster at his hip.

The man shifted his weight to the opposite knee, eyes on him again. Cassian fingers twitched. The man jutted out his chin.

Cassian's fingers loosened when the card was snatched from his hand. The blaster on his holster soon forgotten. Neither of them bothered to add anything, merely nodded out of courtesy. Cassian knew that the encoded contact information wouldn't be jeopardized, that he was absolutely certain of. If any future leader of this rebel cell changed their mind, then they would manage to contact the Alliance—

As for now, it wasn't an option.

Jyn seemed puzzled and annoyed in equal shares, if the face she pulled at him when he turned around to leave was anything to go by. Eyes wide and pursed lips, quickly replaced by a harsh glare and a frown. Provided another circumstances, he could have found it amusing, might have even flashed a brief smile. He shook his head instead, guiding her by his gentle pull on her arm to follow along.

"Cassian, we need to convince him about-," she let out, outraged, her voice almost turning into a yowl.

"No," the fact he didn't shift to Basic made it more categorical. Jyn bobbed her head at him, eyes growing so wide that creases plagued her forehead, "there's nothing we can do to change his mind, leave it be, Jyn," his voice softened at that addition, particularly when he noticed Jyn turning around.

Her frustration did not subdue. The soil was crushing louder beneath her feet on their way back; her lips were a thin line, a curve of tension on each cheek. He didn't need the further confirmation of her heavy sigh, which was quite obviously bordering on a hiss, to know she was annoyed.

She cursed under her breath.

The downpour started without any further warning than a lone, deep, core shaking rumble. The rain advanced from the distance upon them like a solid wall of blurriness. They speeded up ahead, breathing coming out in puffs every time that raindrops found their way into their mouths. They tried to keep the rain at bay by sweeping the water off their faces with their hands —until they got so wet that it made virtually no difference.

By the time they got to the shuttle, they were both soaked to the bone.

* * *

 

 "What are we going to tell Mothma?" Jyn asked nonchalantly, as she squished her hair with a towel.

Cassian seemed too engrossed by the mundane task of tying his bootlaces. Jyn rolled her eyes, contemplating hurling the dampened towel to his head. Rubbing the towel on her neck, she cast a brief look to the pot on the portable stove. Still no answer. She cleared her throat while stirring the Kopi leaves, making sure all of them got soaked into the water.

"Cassian?" she pushed the bigger chunks to the bottom with the spoon. She turned the heat off.

She heard the clanking ruffle of footsteps on the durasteel. "Can I have the towel?" came Cassian voice.

Jyn turned to face him, towel still pressed against the base of her neck. She didn't move her hand from where it was, not even under Cassian's gaze. She did let go the spoon, a faint glug soon followed, brought her now free hand to rest on her hip. When she cocked one eyebrow, Cassian shot her that look that slightly tensed the muscles on his jaw and made his eyes squint.

"Sure," she said, handing it over, immediately adding, "can I have an answer?" when Cassian huffed, she pulled her arm backwards, retrieving the towel. She wasn't proud when that glare was directed to her, she wasn't proud of intentionally trying his patience either.

"Jyn, give me the towel," his nostrils seemed to flare and his tone had a tinge of harshness, "if you be so kind," his voice softened afterwards.

Jyn knew Cassian enough to know that wasn't sarcasm. Whatever had troubled him during the whole travel through hyperspace, had troubled him as they got to the meeting point, had troubled him during that brief and failed negotiation and was undoubtedly troubling him now. Jyn wasn't going to let the issue slide that easily.

She handed the fabric over. She bit her lips, folded her arms over her chest, resting her weight on the counter. She noticed Cassian was deliberately avoiding meeting her searching gaze. Jyn, expectant, watched him rub his hair dry with the towel.

"Isn't that too strong?" Cassian said out of the blue, eyeing the contents of the pot with a frown.

Jyn cursed under her breath. He was right, it was indeed a deeper shade of orange than the one she'd intended; luckily, the tea wasn't spoiled. Strong, for sure, but still palatable. Even if it weren't the case, it'd still do the trick of getting rid of the numbness and the cold that had sunk into their bones after that downpour.

She heard a somewhat rhythmic drumming; figured Cassian must be going through his datapad and the information on the next planet they were supposed to go to. Jyn could only hope that the upcoming meetings and negotiations didn't turn out the way this first one had, or else they would be going from planet to planet aimlessly. Which was partly the reason why she had prompted the question to Cassian in the first place, Jyn thought, pouring the beverage through the strainer. She'd felt useless out there... and taking into consideration Cassian's gloomy mood, well, she needed to know if there was a way she could be of use to this whole operation.

She bit her lips, set the cups filled with steaming Kopi tea down on the small table of the galley, figuring it would be foolish to go into the common room. Especially considering Cassian seemed already too comfortable there. Besides, if Jyn was really going to try and worm whatever had him in that state out of him, then the most sensible course of action was doing so privately. Particularly, away from K-2SO and his ever so well-timed and suitable comments.

She kept a weather eye on him, as she brought the cup to her lips and sipped her drink. Right when she was about to make him notice that the tea was ready, his hand moved and gripped the cup, eyes glued to the lit screen. Jyn didn't know how exactly to pose the question again, or rather, how to mask it enough for Cassian not to notice... she could try to make small talk and lead the conversation where she wanted to.

She swallowed a generous sip of the tea. It was a challenging prospect, especially considering she will be trying to get Cassian, of all people, to open up about his feelings —getting him to open up in general, even in casual chatting was hard enough. Jyn couldn't precisely ask Chirrut to help her with this one. For a moment she wished she had the guardian's wittiness and charisma to carry off the task.

"Are you sure it's safe to stay here?" as she spoke, a distant tremor of a thunder rang out somewhere outside the ship, "isn't it risky? What if a patrol stumbles upon the freighter?" the fact their ship was currently a VCX-350 light freighter could fool the Empire patrols about it being a commercial shuttle, provided they had little time to realise the ship had been modified to be armed, a prospect plausible for a quick random check-up... which was the diametrically opposed to what could happen if they indeed found them there.

Cassian took another sip before answering, still going through the data-pad, insouciant, "patrols don't go this deep into the jungle. The Empire doesn't have resources to waste, and especially not now after those series of major coordinated attacks on key cities by the militias," he made a pause, frowned at something on the screen, sighed, "they've diverted the majority of troops to populated areas. Patrols are only 10 standard kilometers along those areas limits, not any further."

Jyn saw the way his shoulders hunched down when he, finally, set the data-pad aside. He scraped the back of his neck. Jyn kept an eye on him, gaze on him feeling the rim of the plastic cup in silence, eyes fixed on the liquid inside. He took a deep breath before lifting the cup to his mouth; he hummed into his tea before locking his gaze with hers.

Jyn didn't look away, didn't pretend she hadn't been watching.

"Then there's the wildlife. Not particularly friendly with humans, especially nocturnal species," he made a pause, "they are not inherently aggressive, so as long as we stay near the ship and don't bother them, they won't attack."

She quirked an eyebrow, managed to flash him a small smile, "so I guess we're safe then," she said, taking a sip of her own tea.

When she looked up, Jyn nearly coughed on it. She stumbled upon his eyes squinting at her, lips in a side smile.

"I know what you're doing, Jyn," he provided, the corners of his eyes crinkled. The pitch of his voice had lowered towards the end, surely masking a chuckle... or a snort. Either way, to her ears, it all had really rung to _I know what you're trying to do, Jyn_.

"Then you might as well tell me so I don't embarrass myself any further," she prompted, shrugging. After all, it'd been naive of her to believe she could trick Cassian, a spy and intelligence officer, without him realizing. It'd been a vacuous attempt, to say the least.

The creases on the corners of his eyes deepened, and for a fleeting moment when he shook his head, Jyn was almost sure he was about to laugh. However, Cassian let out a sigh instead, before slanting his cup.

"It's complicated," was the only thing he uttered.

Jyn had to swallow her grunt. That was the feeblest excuse for avoiding a discussion, if she'd ever heard one.

"Everything's complicated in war time, Cassian," she fought back, voice firm, which earned her a surprised glance from him, "doesn't mean we won't have to report back to the Council at some point and explain what happened... what about the report?"

"I will take care of that, don't worry, Jyn," he assured her, leaning on the durasteel wall.

"That being the report or that being _everything_?" Jyn was not going to let it rest, not until she got straight answers, "I thought _both_ of us were in charge of the negotiations," she didn't add _I thought we were a team_ , but given the way Cassian cast down his eyes to his almost empty cup, she knew he'd got the message.

"I felt useless out there," she almost whispered, her voice so tiny she was sure it had been barely audible.

Cassian clenched his fingers around the cup, "there was nothing you could have done, Jyn. I warned Mon Mothma, and the Council, that _this_ is going to be the most likely outcome _everywhere_ in the sector, but they insisted," his gaze seemed to soften, eyes warmer, when he fixed it on her bleary eyes, "it wasn't your fault."

Her breath came out in a tired, heavy puff. It still felt like it was her fault. If they were a team, if they had been both trusted with these missions, then she should be able to do her fair share. She should have intervened; she should have cut in and argued back with the man to convince him there was safety and strength in numbers. She should have spoken the way she'd talked to the members of the Council and all the senators during that briefing before the rogue offensive at Scarif. Instead, she'd left that fire die out, she'd not used it. She'd remained silent.

Like she'd done for so many years, look the other way.

It still felt like it'd been her fault. She didn't mean to say it out loud; she hadn't even realized she'd blurted out until she felt the warmth of Cassian's hand nestled around her own. The feeling oddly familiar, making her reminiscence memories. Memories she rarely thought about, particularly in Cassian's proximity, because they made her breath itch, chest constricting with an alien feeling she couldn't, wouldn't, put a name to.

"Speaking Basic would have ruined it, Jyn. At least I managed to give him the encrypted contact information," Cassian assured her, "if they change their mind, they can contact the Alliance."

Jyn nodded. She tried not to dwell too much on the pleasant tingles that his thumb brushing along her hand left behind, skin itching. She kept her gaze fixed on the table, too conscious of the resemblance the situation bear to those moments at the beach.

The closeness stirred the intimacy. A small part of her was apprehensive about making eye contact in that precise moment, afraid of looking into his eyes to see that the emotions shining and outpouring had changed. It was a silly, ridiculous thought, childish even, but she couldn't keep her heart from racing at such thought. So she'd rather not look, pretend the greyish surface of the table was immensely more interesting.

"Okay," she managed to let out.

Silence. His hand was still on hers. Jyn didn't know if it was best if she retrieved it; she didn't really want to.

The data-pad beeped out of the blue, its blueish light bringing the blackened screen to life. And the warmth was gone in the blink of an eye. Jyn bit her lip, partly grateful to the device for taking her out of her predicament, partly disheartened that now Cassian was withdrawing away from her again.

"Cassian," her voice went up, he hummed in acknowledgement of the upcoming question, "do you... can you tell me what he said?" he breathed, heavily, but by the way his eyes fluttered shut for a moment she knew it hadn't been out of annoyance, "you know for... for the briefing and all," Jyn trailed off.

"He said there were no real safeguards for them to trust the Alliance," he got up. She didn't turn, heard the slosh of liquid. A moment later he re-appeared in her line of sight, the white cup a shade darker against the light, "that they've been tricked and taken advantage of by the Republic, for a long time, until the Confederacy sheltered them," he made a pause and took a sip of the Kopi tea, "he said that—" all of a sudden he sighed, and shook his head, "nevermind. That pretty much sums it up, anyway," he uttered that in a low taut voice.

"What did he say?" Jyn pressed; voice soft, casual, calm.

"He said that the Republic and the Empire made no difference in practice, that they always get the short end of the stick anyway," he grimaced, and locked eyes with her, "that the Alliance is just what's left of the Republic."

"So they won't jeopardize their current situation and walk right into something that can backfire on them in the future, right?" Jyn finished for him, "did you assure them that won't happen?"

Cassian evaded her gaze. Her heart sunk.

"Cassian... what," she fumbled for words, not knowing _how_ to react to that revelation.

She hadn't imagined his distress, it had been there, it _was_ there. It was etched to every single one of his features, made plain in the way he'd carried himself ever since they got on the shuttle with the rest of the team back at the base. Then why hadn't he fought harder to convince this rebel leader? Jyn knew Cassian, knew he could be persuasive, knew he was able to read people in the blink of an eye and pull the right strings. Cassian Jeron Andor wasn't the best intelligence officer of the Rebel Alliance for nothing, to the point Mon Mothma herself would wholeheartedly trust his judgement to face the unforseen on missions without reporting to the council for instructions.

Jyn saw the distress increasing, his body stooping under its weight. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, possibly conscious of her stare on him -or was she glaring? His hand was covering his face; he seemed to snuffle into his palm.

When he locked eyes with her, the turmoil raging inside him was obvious. His eyes were clouded, his haggard features grim with all the worry. Her fingers clenched at the sight of him, held her gaze although her inner shame at her tactless insistence was urging her to look down. Jyn remained in her seat, unable to move, even though her palms itched and there was nothing she'd rather do than cross the distance between them and pull him into a hug.

"Cassian, I'm s-" she started to apologize, but fell silent when he held up a hand.

"I couldn't make that promise," a deep, excruciating silent pause broken only by the distant tapping of the rain on the ship and the rumble of thunders, "not when I don't know if it will even be true."

"Cassian, the Alliance wouldn't," Jyn tried to find the words to explain herself, not fully knowing what all that even was coming from, considering her history and grudges with the organization, "I can't see the Alliance doing that," she prompted, her firm voice granting an assurance she wasn't even sure was there—

But this was _Cassian_. He'd been raised within the Rebellion, hope as compass. She couldn't let all that crumble down, she couldn't bear the thought of Cassian having such a gloomy horizon for a future, not after everything he'd sacrificed, not after all the things he'd done.

"If believing will only make it so," Cassian said, grimly, "this war would have ended a long time ago. The Core has always taken advantage of the Outer Rim. The Core planets had always managed to subjugate the Outer Rim to their will, one way or another, with democracy or without it. Even the Republic Senate looked the other way," his fists clenched, "the Senate cared more about its power than anything else, and that happened during peace time. What can the Outer Rim hope for after decades' worth of totalitarianism under the Empire?" the anger was breaking through his usual levelled, calmed voice, his accent even thicker as if he was leaning more and more towards to Festian. He muttered something under his breath, and from the rhythmic staccato of his voice, Jyn knew he'd shifted to his mother tongue.

Jyn knew his mind wasn't grounded right there and right then. She knew he was back in Fest.

_I have been in this fight since I was six years old. You aren't the only one who lost everything.  
_

Jyn was witnessing Cassian's hope fading right before her eyes. Her throat clogged. It was unfair that the man who'd brought hope back into her life when she didn't have any left was losing his. It was unfair that him, of all people Jyn knew from the Rebel Alliance, was the one who couldn't see any bright light at the end of this war. It was unfair that he'd been sacrificing for years for the future of others, while he could not even dare to dream about a promising future for himself. 

_It wasn't fair._

Unfair that he'd been clinging to hope to keep fighting; unfair that he'd been giving others hope, but couldn't hold _hope_ close _for himself_.

"Then we'll fight them," she snarled, snapping.

"Jyn, what are you even talking about?"

Jyn got up, stomped to cover the meagre meters keeping her apart from him, "if the Council turns back on their word once the war is over, we'll fight them," Cassian wore that same vacant expression, she felt the muscles of her back and neck tensing, "I am serious."

Cassian hands were suddenly wrapped around her forearms, gaze on her, eyes warm. There was a shadow of a smile lighting up his eyes, threatening to curl his lips, "Jyn, politics are more complex than that. The Alliance would still have to keep fighting off remaining imperial forces, set up peace committees, re-structure the Senate-"

She lifted her chin, jutting out her jaw, making up her actual feeling of confidence with coming across as confident. Cassian's expression contorted and the gloom give place to some sort of amusement; his eyes flickered under the yellowish light of the halo lamp right above them.

Warmth spread through Jyn's chest as the somberness washed away. She knew it was her mind and emotions playing tricks on her, she knew that his mood changing couldn't make his eyes brighter. And still, that didn't stop her from thinking his eyes were now a warmer shade of brown. It was the lightning; it had to be, like in the elevator on Scarif.

She told herself it had nothing to do with the fact that he was looking at her, or that she was looking at him. She couldn't let her mind drift in _that_ direction.

"We'll fight back," she said, voice so firm and stoic it rang like an announcement, "We'll take our chances."

_We'll take the next chance, and the next. Until we win; or the chances are spent._

"It won't be easy," there was no light tricking her now, Cassian was smiling, smiling at her, "we'll have to make sure there's even and fair representation in the Senate."

"Mon Mothma is already on our side," Jyn argued, "I am sure Senator Riyo Chuchi will agree too, what about Bonteri? Didn't you say General Tano trusted him?"

"Nobody knows any of their current locations," Cassian said, "General Tano went missing in action years ago. Bonteri's believed to have died during one of the sieges of Onderon, though they never issued any death certificate, and there isn't any official record either."

But she wasn't going to let that stop her. There had to be a way, Cassian had to _see_ it.

"Korkie Kryze?" she suggested, the name flickering through her mind with Saw's voice.

Cassian frowned, "it's risky, he's the leader of an extremist rebel cell on the Phindar system."

She arched an eyebrow at the statement, but swallowed the snort before saying in return "well, extremist rebel cell members aren't all bad, are they?" she hadn't intended for her voice to vary its timbre the way it did, lacing it with mellifluousness, riskily a step away from turning teasing, _playful_.

Jyn held her breath.

Suddenly too aware of Cassian's hands still holding her arms, suddenly too aware of the silence that had settled over the room.

Cassian held her gaze.

The unanticipated quietude and stillness were awkward, Jyn wanted to say something, anything, to break them. She wanted to put some distance, take a step back. There was an alien feeling wrapping in her gut, an alien feeling that made her skin tingle, an alien feeling that made the skin under Cassian's touch flush, an alien feeling that made her want to close the gap between them.

The same alien feeling she'd felt on the hangar, pulling, making her gravitate towards him.

_Welcome home._

The same alien feeling that had glued her eyes to his when they bumped their shoulders, as the shuttle entered Scarif atmosphere, passing through the Imperial blockade.

_I'll go tell the others._

The same alien feeling that nearly made her loosen her grip when he fell. The same alien feeling that had her gazing into his eyes in the elevator. The same alien feeling that had spread her fingers and locked them with his, sand rasping her hand. The same alien feeling that had made her hug him, tightening the embrace.

The same alien feeling that had her by his bedside even after she'd been discharged. The same alien feeling that overwhelmed her when she caught him looking in her direction at briefings, when he was talking with Melshi —or with anyone else for that matter. The same alien feeling that enabled her to breathe again once he got safe and sound from a solo mission. The same alien feeling that made her steal glances of him when he wasn't looking.

An alien feeling that had a very specific name and very specific definition, but one that she didn't want to put the label to—

Not now, not _yet_.

There was a loud clank, stomping and thuds. The storm was suddenly ringing clearer, echoing inside the ship. Jyn took a few steps back, rested on the edge of the table, Cassian leaned back against the counter, right in time for a soaked Chirrut to step into the galley, each step accompanied by a slosh and the soft tap of his staff on the durasteel.

"The Force is bright around here," he announced, cheerfully.

It seemed like Chirrut, Baze and Bodhi were back from their reckon —although it hadn't been anything official. More along the lines of Chirrut wanting to take stroll and Baze grunting the rain was coming down in bucketloads, and Chirrut going outside _anyway_. Bodhi had, allegedly, tagged along because he needed to take some air —Jyn suspected K-2SO was driving him up the wall again. Every upgrade Bodhi planned on making to the vessel was met by a litany of exact statistics of that setting a chain reaction that will end up killing them all in space. And Bodhi was too polite to get directly mad with the droid and have an argument in turn.

Chirrut flashed a smile in Jyn's direction. She had to fight down the impulse to bit her lips, embarrassed. Sometimes she wondered how he did that; she could swear he'd look at her in the eye.

Jyn was sure Chirrut _knew_.

"Is that Kopi tea I'm smelling?" the monk asked, making his way swiftly towards the counter, leaving a trail of fairly shaped puddles behind.

"You won't be smelling anything for days, you fool," Baze grunted from the corridor, "you're getting a cold!"

In came Chirrut's bright laugh, "Who's more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?" he argued back, voice going up so Baze didn't miss it, but also out of amusement too. His blueish steely eyes seemed to focus on Cassian, without saying a word; he patted the spy's arm. There were crinkles in the corner of his mouth and eyes.

"A very good tea, captain," he said, taking a sip from the cup Cassian had poured for himself and hadn't finished, "delicious."

"I can heat it up, Chirrut, that must be cold," Jyn interjected, getting closer.

Chirrut smiled and shook his head, patted Jyn on her shoulder on his way out, "there's no need, Jyn, but thank you," he flashed her another warm, bright smile, and exited the room. Jyn could hear the echoes of him and Baze talk fading away into the hall.

"I could use some tea myself, and you should drink something warm," Baze had half argued, half insisted. Chirrut had retorted something about not needing any tea for the time being, the Force was already warm and welcoming—

Jyn wondered whether Chirrut was really talking about the Force around Cassian and her.

* * *

 

"You don't have any language learning holos, do you?" Jyn asked, grabbing the Glo-long light stick from the tool kit. She manoeuvred her way to the edge, careful not to trip on the metal grate panel. Cassian's hand rose from below deck, she set on his palm.

"About?"

She could hear clanking and thumps, him moving around as he worked on finding the short-circuit. There was a cough, a hissed curse in nothing else but Festian —which still Jyn couldn't understand, but by the tone and length she figured it was pretty colorful, and creative. She peered inside, towering above him.

"Festian— or the core branch language; either is fine," she watched him struggle with the clamp, "you know, so I can help you out."

Cassian took off his googles, rubbed the back of his hand on his cheek, managing to smear it with dirt. He panted, lifting up the clamp for her to take. Jyn waited. He rubbed his face, only managing to stain it further.

"I'll tell Kay to check, though I think we don't," he took a sip from the water bottle, "but we're in Albarrio, I am sure we can get hold of some of those—and if not, I can manage to get flimsis."

Jyn smiled, "I thought those were antiques and nobody used them any more," she stated, surprised.

"Well, it's easier to make sure the Empire doesn't destroy language records after imposing Basic in the whole sector if you get those records on something they believe _isn't around_ any more," Cassian answered, nonchalantly, though his voice went up laced with a laugh, amusement, possibly also pride. "I will let you know as soon as I have them," he assured her. He stuffed the tape into his pocket before giving the remaining tools and bottle to her, getting up and propelling himself up and out of his working space quickly afterwards.

Jyn helped him move the grate back into place. When she looked at him, she couldn't suppress a giggle: his face was a mess. Cassian frowned.

"You've got dirt all over your face," Jyn explained, voice still somewhat quivering from laughter, "I'm sorry—here, uhm, wait—"

Jyn lifted the bottle from the floor, dampened the crumpled scarf and handed it over.

"It's high time I washed it so, you know, no harm done."

"Sure?"

"Of course, captain," she said, adding the title just for the sake of teasing.

Cassian grabbed the scarf from her hand, a shadow of a smile playing on the wrinkled corners of his mouth.

"Gracias, Jyn."

"You're welcome, Cassian."

Cassian's comm beeped. Bodhi was having trouble with the ionization reactor again and needed an extra pair of helping hands, ones that didn't belong to an over judgmental droid. He gave her a brief node as an additional goodbye, before turning on his heels and took the nearest corridor. Jyn heard the argument he was having with the droid, over the comm, resonating on the hallway.

She stocked the toolkit in its place in the cockpit compartment. She meant to leave for her quarters and have a nap, but her feet seemed to have a mind of their own; carrying her to the pilot's seat. She settled back into it, her fingers felt the edges of her kyber crystal. She hooked a finger right on the bell cap, smiled, as the thought flickered through her mind—

Her name sounded softer, prettier, in Festian.

Or maybe it'd been the way Cassian had said it.

Hopefully, in the near future, she'd be able to settle for one of the two guesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of Mon Mothma's main concerns was what was going to become of the members of the rebellion once the Empire was overthrown, so I guess I can say that the Rogue One dossier sparked this story. I wanted to explore the effects past experiences and history may have in both Cassian and Jyn, and how this shapes their prospective futures.
> 
> The symbolism, depictions and portrayals of Albarrio sector do not belong to canon, and are entirely on my headcanons. These are heavily based on different Latin American countries, cultures and their history, particularly, what went down during the second half of the 20th century -hence the warnings, which will apply to upcoming chapters, and will be referenced and addressed in the notes. 
> 
> Oh, and I didn't want to end this note without thanking you all so much for reading! Feedback is always appreciated :)


	2. Slipping into Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though everyone's against it, Cassian goes to retrieve intel from an informant alone. He's walking right into the heart of occupied imperial controlled land, keeping radio silence, with no other back-up that an encoded distress signal. No matter how much she trusts him, Jyn can feel it in her bones -it can go terribly wrong.

A thud. Ruffle of cloth. Snapping. Clanking. A whizzing metallic sound. Clasping ranging out. Stomped steps in heavy boots. Salt crunching beneath their wake. The gush of wind made his nose itch, prickling the back of his throat with no mercy. Even though he cleaved his tongue along the roof of his mouth, it didn't fade away.

Bodhi fixed his eyes on comm in his hand. His fingers tightened their grasp and the retort clawed at his throat, "you shouldn't go alone."

The stomped steps halted. The comm practically digging into his palm, he averted his gaze for a fleeting second. He caught sight of Cassian, staring back at him. His usual unfazed expression was sporting a small, almost imperceptible, dimple on his cheek. The crunching soon returned, growing closer.

"We've discussed this," his voice was calm, levelled, even ringed with a tinge of amusement, "it's safer."

That was exactly the part Bodhi didn't agree with. At all. Cassian going _alone_ to retrieve information from a contact on an Imperial controlled town, infamously known for the brutal and cruel methods imperial forces used on captured _subversives_ , wasn't _safe_ at all.

Cassian was skilled, he was an intelligence officer. He'd been doing this for a long time—

But, radio silence?

That meant no immediate back-up of any sort if things went south. It meant that they'd have no way of knowing if anything happened to him, no way of knowing if he'd been captured or merely delayed. It meant danger hovering over his head.

If something happened, they could be _too late_.

Bodhi had been late _before_.

He didn't want to be late _again_.

 _Ever_.

The pain in his hand like punctures in his fingers. He blew out a faltering sigh. When he turned, tension knotted on the vertexes of his jaw. The shadow of the smile playing about Cassian's lips vanished. He sighed and closed his eyes shut, breathed in, and waved his hand vaguely forth.

"It's _not_ safe," Bodhi stressed, his usual cautious tone turning harsher, "how can it be safe if you'd be closed off?" he made a pause, but didn't wait for Cassian to answer, "if something happens—"

"There's the encrypted distress signal," Cassian cut in, "I know it's not ideal, but outsiders are quickly spotted. It's easier to make only one person go unnoticed," he zipped up his leather jacket.

Bodhi worked his tongue in his mouth, swallowing down the retort. He had a valid point. That still didn't mean going alone would eliminate the ever looming risk of getting caught. They would still be there, the Imperials would still be there, and Cassian would still have no immediate back-up.

"I'm going with you," the muscles on his jaw clenched the moment the words slid out of his mouth. He pressed his lips together and lifted his chin up, staring right back at Cassian, he even squared his shoulders.

Bodhi didn't miss the way Cassian's throat bobbed, or the way his gaze diverted for a flickering moment to the dark metal arm prosthetic shining under the blazing sun. Bodhi's fingers slackened his grip on the comm on his flesh hand. The sand and salt crushed under the weight of his bold steps.

Cassian's hand grasped hold of his shoulder, a gentle shove backwards, stopping him short. Bodhi curled and grinded his fingers together so hard it amazed him the metal didn't jangle. He heard the ragged breath from Cassian, the moment his grasp quivered.

"You're staying," Cassian retorted back, his voice gentle but still firm, "I need someone scanning for—"

"Kaytoo can do that," Bodhi fought back, tensing again and heart pounding in his ears, "you need someone covering your—"

"No," the harshness and roughness of his voice felt like a punch. He sucked in a breath, the corners of his eyes softening, he patted Bodhi on the shoulder, "I need power diverted to avoid detection, but enough systems set up to start the engines as soon as I send that encoded signal," his grasp tightened, "Kay will start going through alternatives with a better rate of success, those are seconds I might not have the luxury to spare. I can't ask Jyn to do all that, she's not a pilot," the movement of his lips was so small and so swift that Bodhi almost did not catch it, " _you're the pilot._ "

Under different circumstances, he might have complained about using such a low blow to walk himself out of this. Watching him shoulder the backpack and saunter his way to the fenwolf, didn't ease the tightness on his chest. Bodhi blew out a ragged sigh, shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand.

The fenwolf flicked its ears forth when Cassian crouched down to its level. Bodhi watched him fasten the bag tightly behind the slope of the mount, the animal straightened up on its four legs, turning its head to the shuttle for a fleeting second. Bodhi's upper lip twitched at the sight of the fangs. The wind carried the words of Cassian spurring the creature forth. There was a faint snap and he saw Cassian swing on its back; the fenwolf pranced away in a succession of high springy steps. Sooner than Bodhi could have anticipated, distance was eating them away. A moment later Cassian was but a brown blurring dot in the distance.

The wind was scraping his face. With another sigh, Bodhi turned on his heels and stomped up the ramp. The durasteel clanked beneath each step, the whir of the metal slate sliding the entrance shut behind him. Rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, he started going over the ship's system in his head, mentally cataloguing which ones to render un-operational and which ones to use to by-pass energy on stand-by. He needed to make sure the activity was low enough to go unnoticed to any scanner and sensor reading, but high enough to allow a quick re-treat. Keying coordinates he'd known by heart and making a jump to hyperspace from the moon's surface was extremely risky, even though he'd gone over the planet's topography and chosen a landing spot which smoothed the way precisely for that —Chirrut assured him he'd to trust the Force, Bodhi kept thinking Jyn's suggestion was _suicidal_.

It didn't help his case the way her lips had curled into a side smirk, off-handedly commenting right after that _so had been Scarif_ , her shoulders shrugging forth.

The laughs had been hollow. Bodhi winced at the memories sometimes. He supposed it was a step forwards for them all, Jyn in particular, from waking up to throats torn by screams —or not sleeping at all.

Still, he reflected while looking at the data on the data-pad screen, the prospect of such a daring move worried him. But for other reasons entirely, not because he feared he could not pull the jump. If there was something in the ship vector's way they could end up blowing up; or if he accidentally messed up the coordinates they could end up being catapulted into a satellite or right into the black hole of a dying star.

He took a deep breath, visualized the air going inside his lungs. He needed to calm his rushing mind. Rogue One needed its pilot, Cassian needed him focused; _he_ was their only way out of the planet and imperial claws. Bodhi rolled his shoulders before taking the turn to the cockpit.

When Jyn's worried green eyes met his, he shook his head, drumming his fingers on the cold wall. The hope widening her eyes and drawing soft creases on her forehead crumbled down in the blink of an eye. Sombreness obscured her face. Her lips pressed together when she glanced down to her boots.

His finger prodded the switch down and off in one swift clawing move. Several lights on the control panel before him stopped flickering. Bodhi bit his lip. The clank of his hand on the board still sent tremors up his back. He tried to fight down the impulse, but his jaw grinded his teeth together. A quick glance to the view-port, the sun reflecting on the impossibly white landscape, was enough for his eyes to squint.

He could tell the droid to log into the navi-computer and do a system check-up, once he was done with shutting down some systems and leaving others on. His fingers curled. Cassian wasn't there, and the droid wasn't particularly receptive to Jyn's scowls and threats. Bodhi distinctively remembered one of their last exchanges, back in Ancathia when the droid refused to follow a simple order.

"I find your intimidation of _putting a laser bolt into my bucket head_ no more than pretence. I believe the colloquialism humans have for it is bluffing," his raspy metallic voice had assured to an infuriated Jyn who kept drumming her fingers on the blaster butt on her waist.

That had but earned him another grunt from her, who in an angered trembling tone had diligently spit back, "what makes you so sure of that?"

The droid had craned his neck down, bright light on his foto-receptors turning dim for a flickering instant.  Perhaps his answer to Jyn's snort had been the worst of it all, "it worries you too much how the Captain will react, Jyn Erso."

To Jyn's credit, the blush had been barely noticeable, and back then Bodhi had pretended that he was very busy checking that there wasn't a scuff amidst the silvery reflection of the prosthetic. He remembered coughing to keep himself from voicing any kind of agreement with the droid.

His face suddenly withered at the tug at his muscles. He figured that, given the circumstance, he _could_ convince the droid to stop quarrelling and coming up with most suitable courses of action... if he reminded him that _Cassian_ was out there on a mission, and all that meant to do was kept _him_ safe. Bodhi knew that usually had a better, more beneficial effect than just reminding him that Cassian had instructed him to obey orders.

In K-2SO order of priorities, though he would quite possibly protest at such a preposterous insinuation until his circuits fried, his reprogrammer's safety always triumphed over any mission directive or given order. The droid would openly defy and go against anything he'd been told to do if he suspected that Cassian was, or _could be_ , in danger.

Bodhi had learned the hard way that the K-X model series had strength to be reckoned with. That certainly hadn't been an Imperial sham of self-praising propaganda.

He'd better look for that droid. The round blinding silhouette on the sky was starting its way down to the horizon, slow. If he could test the array at least two times, maybe the knot at the base of his throat will come somewhat loose.

On his way out, he didn't miss the way Jyn was clutching the kyber crystal in her hand. A reminiscence of how he'd held the comm moments earlier.

He sucked in a breath. There was not much he could say that didn't sound empty, hollow, the kind of expressions people used to delude themselves when worrying, while fully aware that the exact opposite thing might as well happen—

They'd rallied behind a suicide mission; they were past those kinds of superficial set-phrase wishes.

 

Jyn didn't flinch at the clasp of cold metal on her shoulder. She lifted her hand and covered the black shine with it instead, grasping fingers. Her fingers kept feeling the sharp edges and smoothness of the translucent crystal. She never let go her hold on the necklace, not even when Bodhi walked away. She merely clasped it, closer, to her heart.

* * *

 

Though gentle, the breeze was abrading his throat raw. He let go of the reins and tightened his legs on the fenwolf side, careful not to mismatch the tempo of his sway to the creature's quick trot.

He sucked in a breath, hands quick to the back of his neck; skilled fingers secured and tightened the wrap of the scarf. His hands tripped on the animal's neck to reach the reins again. He took advantage of the movement to give a generous pat, right over the quickened pulse. If he was uncomfortable, surely the fenwolf was too. He wasn't the one spurring through the dessert under the blazing sun.

His eyes scanned the horizon. In the distance, blurriness wrapped around yellowish formations cut out against the sky. They were getting closer to the city, which meant that he was on schedule still. The sun hadn't reached its highest point yet. If he played his cards wisely, he could be heading back before nightfall.

He rolled his shoulders; there was a ruffle and an awkward tightness bundling up around his arm. The shirt sleeve must have ridden up again. It was actually expected, considering the bandage. A smile tugged at his lips, though he felt a bit guilty that now the familiar green scarf was smeared with brown stains of dry blood. He barely had any recollection of the whole thing, the grenade had stunned him. What he recalled perfectly was the voice breaking through the echoes of his fogged mind, the tautness swathing that had stopped the liquid warmth from meandering down his arm.

He kept thinking he should have returned the scarf by now. Jyn had shrugged it off and even suggested that very morning that perhaps he'd better keep it, for a while longer —extra cover over bandages wouldn't hurt anyone. She was going to stay in the ship; she wouldn't need the scarf anyway.

He pulled one of the reins toward him; the fenwolf curved its pace to the side. His heel pressed down, spurring the creature to the shade of an eroded cliff. Cassian tightened his jaw. The animal dodged the debris of its own accord, too _abruptly_ for his liking.

The shade of the eroded canyon walls clung shivers to his exposed skin; as if the icy howling winds of Fest from his childhood were the ones sweeping over his glistening prickled face.

He winced, sliding off the fenwolf to the ground. His legs twitched and complained at even the slightest turn of his muscles. Tension clambered up his leg and hip, digging and piercing like claws, a painful strain sprout on the middle of his back right where he'd met the durasteel girder on his fall. It nestled into a knot that made his nostrils flare.

His fingers turned white when he gripped the leather of the saddle. Squeezing his eyes shut, his breathing grazed on his lips tremulously. A ragged breath escaped his lips; he tried to brush off the pain. His free hand patted his side, looking for the threadbare string.

His fingers struggled with the duraplastic cap of the canteen. He slanted it upwards and took a generous gulp, brushed the water dripping down his chin off with the back of his hand.

"I know, I know," he muttered, looking down when the snout prodded his palm insistently, "I'm on it."

 

The sun stole glistening silver from the water on the bowl, right before the sloshes filled the stillness. The tired creature practically wolfing down the liquid made Cassian wince, he should have probably considered making a stop sooner. Swinging the backpack forth to his chest and clutching it with one hand, he gently let himself slide to the dusty salt covered soil. The erosion had eaten and softened the canyon walls rather evenly, and the support managed to be gentle on his weary back.

He cut out a piece of the Correllian apple with his pocket knife, and found himself wiping his chin and lips yet again when the juice slipped out.

Cassian let his head rest on the rock wall, closing his eyes shut; the crunching sound of his own teeth grinding over the fruit filling his ears. He swallowed, relaxed and stretched his legs. Sweetness invaded his mouth with the next bite. He allowed himself to let out a slow, contented sigh.

He could hear the whistling howl of the wind around him, the stomps of the fenwolf as it lay on its side. The creature seemed unbothered by the saddle, the heavy even puffs of its breathing hinted as much. If Cassian's calculations were correct, there were merely a few miles in between them and their destination, he could let it rest for a while longer.

Besides, he thought taking another bite of the apple, it would be better to arrive during the shift change. He'd to minimize every slight chance encounter or contact with troopers, the more he stayed out of their sight, the less he would risk rising suspicions and being captured.

The comm felt suddenly heavy on the front pocket of his jacket.

His lips twitched. Bodhi had been right, in both practice and theory. Going alone was a hazardous prospect, but Cassian had already put several people in even more dangerous situations before, he was well aware of how those instances —one in particular— had turned out in the end.

They might have joined in from their own free will, but that didn't do much to ease his sense of inherent responsibility at the outcome.

By some miracle, Rogue One had _survived_.

The Force had never particularly been on Cassian's side, ever. Miracles weren't a common occurrence.

He wasn't going to push their lucks any further. If any at all, he'd push _his_.

In any case, years upon years of self-sacrifice... what difference did another one make?

He'd been doing this for a long time. He'd be fine. It was an easy assignment: avoid imperial patrol, meet with his contact, gather the information and get back to the shuttle to deliver the intel. _In and out_. Like countless of mission he'd done before, like countless of instances he'd collected information to add to the ever growing puzzle in his head for years.

There was virtually no difference except—

Kay wasn't the only one waiting for him back on the shuttle. Kay wasn't the only one worried about his whereabouts. Kay was no longer the only one worried about his safety.

It was... strange.

It felt odd, even somehow out of place, after so long. Not that Shara or Kes didn't worry, not that Hera or Kanan weren't concerned either but, it wasn't quite the _same_. Because they could worry, as a perpetual state, as an ever present thought in the back of their minds that would nag at their conscience, sometimes out of the blue. Their apprehension was one devoid of sharp limits; drown in the swirling fogs of abstraction.

For Rogue One, their worry was more tangible. They even got corporeal glimpses of what lied beneath that anxiety. They'd seen the wounds, the injuries and the scars. They'd seen all damage, whether manifested or concealed underneath the bruises.

Rogue One had also dealt with their fear with all the knowledge that reality unfolding before one's eye could give. The kind of awareness that picked up one heart's pace, the kind that constricted one's chest. Their anxiety came down to being fully aware of what he was getting himself into, with all implications, ramifications and potential dangers attached—

They had clashed about the whole plan, to the point he'd to exert his rank as justification for them to follow suit.

He wasn't used to people _caring, worrying_ about him like that. He wasn't used to people raising their tone to contradict a direct order out of worry, not because they thought the mission aim might be compromised, but because they were worried for his _safety_.

They kept reminding him they were a _team_ , that they were all together in these missions. They were supposed to help _each other_ out.

Before, K-2SO would have diligently provided him with statistics of potential outcomes, even stressed the safer course of actions, fussed about not being a strategic nor sensible move —but he'd always shook its head and comply to Cassian's, usually firm but gentle, sometimes stern, commands. Well, most of the time at least.

He still remembered, vividly, the way Jyn had rolled her eyes and scoffed when he presented the mission directives for the first time. Bodhi had stared at him, eyes widening in as his expression transfixed, when he'd informed all of them he would be going into town alone.

The Guardians had remained silent. Baze all squared shoulders and folded arms, a clear unspoken message in the way he'd quirked his eyebrow; Chirrut staring right back at him with those steely blue eyes that couldn't see, and Cassian's nape had itched at the wild thought the monk was staring right into his mind.

The pilot hadn't said anything, at least not at the beginning. It wasn't until Jyn openly argued, though her voice had definitely wrapped around frustrated snarl —that it was _ridiculous_ , that he needed _them_ with him— that he prompted they may discuss another plan among all of them, one that wasn't fraught with danger.

It might had been one of the very few instances in the past weeks —if not the only one— in which Kay had actually agreed with _Jyn_ on something, for a change.

His eyes fluttered open; he gazed at the cloudless bright light blue sky above him. He sucked in a breath, rubbed his hand over his face. He still wasn't proud of having to resort to being higher in the chain of command to silence their protest —and concerns. He wasn't invalidating their discomfort… but he'd to be practical.

He'd to put things in perspective.

He needed to get that intel. These informants, commoners in the heart of worlds under the yoke of Imperial tyranny, were often the ones who had alerted the Alliance of upcoming military operations, the ones that warned the resistance of the atrocities committed by the Empire.

They were the ones who kept him anchored to reality, too.

As a child, Cassian had been a witness to the horrors and savagery behind imperial rule. He was well acquainted with what the Imperial slogan _restoring peace and order in the galaxy_ actually meant, he'd seen it in Fest. His assignments and work as a spy had given him a broader standpoint, he knew of the crimes perpetrated in even the darkest corners of the galaxy —those corners Core and Mid-World senators liked to pretend did not exist, and if they did exist, they truly lacked the importance for them to _care_. He even knew of the lies the Empire loved to fabricate to cover up their brutal and atrocious infamies; lies these senators just loved to fall for, even when the signs to raise suspicions were all scattered about for anyone to see —if they bothered to look.

They loved to fall for these lies because doing so exempt them from taking responsibility, from doing something about it —out of sight, out of mind.

Carefully crafted and selective obliviousness gave them a pass to keep pretending nothing was wrong.

Staying idle, ignoring what was right before their eyes, was _comfortable_. Turning a blind eye to the suffering of others came easily for these senators, shielded from the terrifying reality that many across the Outer Rim could not avoid, safe from the carnages and pain of war in the comfort of their luxurious homes.

If he could help topple down the Empire, if his sacrifice helped bring justice to those who had none, if it brought a glimmer of hope to people suffering under the asphyxiating choking grasp of the Empire, then it would be worth it.

_Hope._

The Empire would fall.

Empires always fell, sooner or later.

But this certainty did not imply that Empire would crumble down of its own accord. Tyranny wouldn't disappear over time, the Empire would not vanish out of thin air, and especially not when they were doing everything in their power to strengthen their domination, their control, over the galaxy.

He couldn't prioritize _his safety_. His life was not worth more than the ones of those suffering under the Empire. He was but a cog in the machinery to bring it down.

He was a rebel.

He'd a responsibility, a duty he'd assumed, a duty for which he'd resigned to many of the purity moral tenants that were supposed to act as life compass for ordinary people. He'd surrendered them consciously, of his own free-will—

He'd lost too much already. But others _hadn't_. If getting his hands coated red meant that a child got to keep theirs clean, away from blasters and bombs and explosives, then so be it. If light dimming and vanishing from eyes haunted him, if nightmares plagued his rest and he woke up to a pounding heart, to a throat lacerated by screams, but a child could keep his innocence for a another day, dream bright colourful dreams, then so be it.

If he could bring an end to the Empire, so they wouldn't have to suffer what he —and countless others— had to suffer through, if he could keep their innocence from shattering like his had, then it was worth it.

He'd gladly welcome death.

Change didn't start from above and went down; especially not when those at the top were the perpetuators of violence, the responsible for injustice, the ones behind tyranny. Change always started from below, and went up. Change was a conglomerate of selfless individual choices made action.

Hard, difficult choices.

_Cassian had made his choice a long time ago._

* * *

 

Jyn rubbed her temples, blowing out a sigh. These grammar rules were seriously trying her patience. Why would anyone need to be so… _complicated_ with words? Her Basic language classes had been a stroll in the park in comparison—

She jerked her head in the direction of the door when she heard clanking footsteps. Bodhi was at the entrance, lips pressed together into a frown. Jyn didn't know whether he was staring at her or the mess of flimsis on the desk.

Bodhi blinked and fixed his gaze on her. He walked into the galley in a slowly but careful, steady stride. Jyn tilted her head and pointed at the seat across from her. Bodhi twiddled his fingers and bit his lips; Jyn cleared her throat, shot him a knowing small smile when his eyes met hers.

"You okay?"

Bodhi rolled his shoulder and rubbed his neck with his hand, he cleared his throat before answering in a sighed, "yeah, I am fine— guess it's only a matter of time until," he paused, gaze darting to his prosthetic arm for a brief second, "until I get used to it. You know that's what," he cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse, barely about a whisper when he spoke next, "that's what the therapist said…"

Jyn pushed the data-pad away from her, curled her fingers before looking at him in the eye, "I wasn't talking about the arm," her tone came out cautious, her voice tiny, almost wrapping around a whisper.

Bodhi's throat bobbed at her words, his lips twitched, pressed together in a side frown.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured, avoiding meeting her gaze.

Jyn figured it'd be better to not push the matter any further. She figured Bodhi could talk with Baze and Chirrut, they would be able to provide comfort and understanding in a way she never could. Jyn had lost her world once, had lost her parents too, but this, what Bodhi was going through… she would never be able to wrap her mind around it.

She'd lost everything she knew once, twice. Jyn'd lost her family once, twice. But Bodhi'd lost his world, in the both metaphorical and literal sense of the word.

Anything she thought about saying sounded hollow and empty, so she remained silent. Her take on such loss was merely on levels of abstraction, but for Bodhi it was real. Raw pain tearing at his insides and his mind, even though he did his best not to show it.

Bodhi had lost all that had shaped, made him _himself_.

Bodhi seen everything he'd ever known, everything he'd ever called home, everything that had made him feel _at home_ , shattered around him. Its fragments on the horizon, suspended on the dusty Jedhan sky.

The galaxy'd lost the Holy City, the galaxy had lost Jedha. But Bodhi's home had been wiped out from existence, as if it had never existed at all. Whatever remnants of its existence were left, now danced and howled in the desert winds of Jedha, mingling with the sand.

Nothing left but dust.

And Bodhi —and Chirrut, and Baze— the only survivors of the atrocity. Its only fragments in the flesh left.

Jyn sometimes wondered if there had been any survivors, from that day, from before. She guessed there might be. She'd seen the way Bodhi looked, watched and heard every time a new transport arrived with new recruits, she'd seen him flicking through the crowds with sharp but brief gazes on missions.

Awaiting, searching, and hoping.

At times, it reminded her of Leia Organa herself.

She wanted Bodhi to know that she was there for him, if she needed him, just like Bodhi was there for her —she still couldn't keep her lips from curling into a small smile at the fond memory, Bodhi stammering and going over his words several times, until he could churn out they could talk about his father… if she _needed_ to.

Jyn wanted to be there for Bodhi, if he needed her to be.

 

She was still struggling with everything, trying to cope with losing them both. _Papa. Saw_. She tried not to think about it, about any of it, really—

The way the bright smile had cut through the somberness of Saw's worn face, the way his voice wrapped in a gentle _my child_ , the way he'd grabbed his staff the minute Cassian stepped into the room, him staying behind, his words echoing in her head. She remembered the shrill joy in papa's quivering voice, _Stardust_ , the small flickering smile that tugged at his lips, his trembling hand on her face—

She tried not to think about any of it when she was awake. It would all invariably came back, echoed, blurred, clearer, mingled; it would all play before her eyes over and over and over again when she _tried_ to sleep. The memories would bleed in her mind again, she would wake up, all ragged breathing, soaked clothes and sweat beading on her forehead and trickling down her body. She would clutch the kyber crystal in her hand, grasp turning tighter and tighter, every intake of breath rough on her throat, air getting stuck at some point in between her mouth and her lungs.

Choking, choking, breathing strangling her, lungs burning.

Burning.

Burning.

Tears stinging, brimming her eyes. She would try to get back to sleep, and they would stream down her cheek, prickling at her skin. She would press her lips together and try to swallow the sobs before burying her face on the pillow, the grey coarse worn cotton a muffler.

When she'd step in the common room with bags under her eyes, mauve stains under her reddened, puffed-up eyelids, nobody would say anything during breakfast. Unless K-2SO was there; the droid would make a brief comment on her showing physical indicators of stress and insomnia, would suggest retrieving the sleeping meds from the med-kit that were at her disposal — _sleeping's human's recharge_ , he would argue with that matter-of-fact metallic static-tainted tone of his, a tone she was starting to suspect was Kay's equivalent of worry, not that he'd ever acknowledge being worried about _her_.

All would flash her knowing looks, amidst the faint, murmured _hellos_ and _good morning_ s. They'd never asked each other if they'd slept well. Bodhi would push gently a cup of caf for her the moment she sat down, Baze would pat her on the shoulder, fingers gripping ever so slightly in a brief squeeze, Chirrut would smile and nod —sometimes an edge of sadness and empathy to the way his lips quirk.

Cassian wouldn't say anything. He would keep a watchful gaze over her, flash her an understanding, knowing tiny smile over the rim of his cup. He would stay behind after everyone else had left the room, Jyn would feel the familiar proximity of his shuffle, the whisper asking a random, simple, mundane question to then clear his throat and say something along the lines of _if you need anything_ and then he'd trail off. Silence would then settle in between them, he'd clear his throat and add, eyes downcast, where he'd be working, remind her they needed to go over new files, key the reports.

That routine they'd all fallen into kept going; but there'd been alterations in the past weeks. Not regarding Bodhi, Chirrut, Baze nor K-2SO, but rather Cassian. Perhaps she was reading too much into it, but the thought kept nagging at the back of her mind. Ever since that conversation in the galley, after those failed negotiations… there'd been a shift. Jyn didn't know whether she was letting her guard down, whether Cassian was letting his down, fact remained she felt there were… closer, moving closer, being closer—

Not merely at a literal level, Cassian had opened up to her about his fears. And little by little, he and his _words_ , his _eyes_ , his _smile_ , his _worry_ , his comfort _touch_ , were starting to run cracks on the shell she'd built around her.

She figured she should have seen it coming, that it would happen eventually, that it shouldn't have taken her by surprise the way it did—

It'd happened after a particularly rough night. Having been unable to sleep, haunted by the nightmares, memories and death, she'd been on edge, tears welling up and burning in her eyes that she blinked away, sobs choking her throat—

Without saying a word, he'd wrapped his arms around her, hold her close to his chest, caressed her shoulder, her arm. Overwhelmed by the familiar, breathtaking warmness suddenly cloaking around her _again_ , Jyn hadn't moved.

Paralysed.

She'd started to tremble and she didn't know why— until she realized the warmth prickling her cheeks were her tears. Cassian hadn't uttered a sound, merely kept stroking her arm and back, his grasp weak enough for her to break free at any moment.

She hadn't. She'd wrapped her arms below his, hid her face in his shirt, and kept crying.

 _"I'm here, I'm here— I won't_ leave _—"_

And Jyn was afraid; deep deep down, that he _couldn't_ keep that promise.

* * *

 

He got up, whistling the fenwolf awake. The creature yawned; giving spotlight to the rows of sharp, long teeth, before stretching out its front legs. The salt crunched beneath its paws, underneath the scrape of its claws. He scratched the fenwolf behind its big, pointy ears.

He wished he'd got some sort of warning before getting showered with dust, sand and salt. He coughed up and rubbed off the dust from his face, just in time to see the fenwolf finishing getting rid of whatever remains were in its fur.

"And _now_ you want my bar, right?" he almost grunted when the animal sniffed his pocket.

Sucking in a breath, he hopped on back on the fenwolf's back. He patted the creature's neck. He fastened his googles before spurring the fenwolf forward with a firm poke of his heels.

Their shadows were now starting to lengthen by their side.

He fixed the scarf in place, covering his mouth. His fingers searched, patting, for the more prominent folds on the arm of his jacket. He pinched at the bulge, tried to clasp the cloth together with the leather, pulling downwards. He bit the rim of his tongue, trying to smooth the layers. It would most probably rid up again before he set foot in town.

The fenwolf's trot was steady; Cassian didn't want to urge the animal into a quicker pace yet. It'd be tiring it more than necessary; it would be imprudent considering that in the face of danger the fenwolf was his first mean of _escape_ –or at least, it would allow him to put some distance between him and his pursuers, while contacting Rogue One.

His fingers tightened around the reins. He tried to keep his mind off the argument, did his best not to dwell too much on the fact _both_ Jyn and Bodhi had confronted him about this mission. Not because he thought their concerns were misplaced, there was certainly justification for them to be worried, but because it really wasn't the time to let his mind meander off away from the mission at hand.

Of course, the situation wasn't comparable at all with Jenoport all those months ago, but the absence of impending, pressing potential of danger didn't mean that the information this informant had wasn't _important_. After all, she'd gone through the trouble of contacting him, prompting their deviation to Dibrook —or rather, one of its moons.

The moon itself wasn't important, at least not in the military sense. There were no military imperial facilities, no training academies, nothing of the sort. It was merely one of the many worlds across the Outer Rim that the Empire was sucking dry. Being stripped of its main foundation, a rather mundane resource: rock salt. Naturally, Imperial presence and control meant Imperial exploitation of the native and local population to get said resource. The moon's inhabitants hadn't really had much of a choice once the star destroyers and imperial ships showed up, interrupting the peace of the bright light blue skies.

In these worlds, the hold of the Empire was tight, choking. A traditionally mining, peaceful moon; the populace hadn't had much of a chance to stand their ground against the invaders, not when there were fingers more than happy to pull a trigger at whatever threatened to disrupt the order and peace the Empire was so eager to ensure. The dearth that came along with living in occupied land increased the hardships of everyday life.   

It was also the kind of place where sparks of rebellion caught fire.

And some sparks, Cassian knew, lit smaller fires. Fires that went unnoticed.

His contact could have information of an upcoming military operation in the sector, or even some sort of high classified information that any official with an alcohol-moistened loose tongue might had let slip—

It had happened, more than once. Particularly when the officials in question came from the Core, they assumed the locals, _backward, uneducated, ignorant_ people, had a rudimentary grasp of Galactic Basic. This attitude, together with the reluctance of their recruits learning other languages —such ideas, sometimes even punished—, gave room to subtler ways of resistance among the populace.

He couldn't help but smile underneath the scarf. He distinctively remembered how he'd first contributed with the Festian resistance. Still smiling at the memories, he spurred his mount again, turning the trot to a faster pace.

It wasn't long before the dust crowded around towering massive bulwarks. At a distance, even the walkers were distinguishable, silhouetted amidst the dust and the sky; pacing, striding, patrolling. One stationed at the access to the town, canyons aimed at the entrance.

Cassian draw the reins backwards towards his hips, the fenwolf pace slowed. This time there was no abruptness to the animal's movements; the closer they got, the more it seemed the creature was holding back, hesitating, when placing its paws forward. Possibly at the sight of the walkers–

Cassian patted it on the neck, even scratched the clammy fur over the quickened pulse.   He pulled the scarf up, closer to the rim of his googles.

They stepped across the threshold.

* * *

 

Bodhi slid into the seat opposite her, fingers feeling the rim of the grey cast-plast cup. The silverfish swirls of steam curled around his face. There was a tiny sound, like a whimper reverberating in the back of his throat. She saw him wince, hand clutching the junction of flesh and metal.

"I'll go fetch the med-kit," she blurted out, looking up as soon as the last word slid from her mouth.

"Don't, it's fine—" he contradicted her, shaking his head, hand still clutching the very same spot. "Besides, there's nothing on the med-kit that can help," Bodhi whispered, almost havening in the sigh.

Jyn stopped short, body hovering over her seat and palms pressing down on the table. She swallowed, and slid back on the bench. Jyn had met enough scarred and wounded soldiers throughout her life to know pain wasn't exactly the only thing bothering Bodhi. It was the ghostly feeling of the severed limb, the feeling of metal touching, scraping on flesh, cold against warmth.

She balled her hands. She rose to her feet and practically stomped away from the table.

 

"Jyn, I told you I don't—" came Bodhi's voice again, hoarser, laced with a scoffing sound wrapping around a grunt.

A faint boosh, a lone clank. The ruffle of footsteps moving about behind him, he turned, to find her not on her way out the galley, but by the counter. Red and blue rising from the round base on top of the burner, licking at the steel.

"Kopi tea's… soothing," she cleared her throat, "you know, instead of caf—" she trailed off, inspecting the contents of a round container with careful eyes and a curious sniff. She winced at the smell.

Probably they should start labelling those things.

He seriously doubted the tea could do anything at all. Still, it didn't hurt to try, or at least indulging her would keep her from fetching the med-kit -and that was as good of a plan as anything else. He knew painkillers weren't going to be of use at all. Chirrut had offered him to meditate, Bodhi was still somewhat reluctant to see how it would help him to improve resilience against pain —perhaps he would give it a try, eventually.

Jyn kept going through the small cabinets, her sighs growing increasingly heavier.

"What's with you and Kopi tea lately?" he asked suddenly, almost found himself chortling. A smile dangled on the corners of his lips.

If amusement had tinged his voice when uttering the question, a laugh most certainly prickled at the back of his throat when she frowned at him, lips pressed together and a quirked eyebrow.

Jyn had tried to convince herself that her newly discovered preference for tea over caf was entirely on avoiding pulsing headaches, which too much caf always invariably gave her —the droid had insisted it was tension and stress, Jyn had told him she'd not asked for his opinion— and not, well, the warmth and _warmness_ she'd come to associate with the tea in question.

She was most definitely _not_ reflecting on that chat and going over those moments after the failed recruitment mission. _Absolutely not._

"Nothing, I happen to like tea," she shrugged it off, showering a spoonful of dry leaves into the water.

Without really intending to, she glanced at the chrono. Uneasiness constricted her chest all of a sudden. Shouldn't Cassian be back by now? The night would fall quickly; and he'd made a point of being back before dark —

There was a curfew, after all, and a lone rider with nothing but a small bag and the clothes on his back going right back into the desert would smell fishy.

She sucked in a breath, forced herself to inhale deeply. She'd to trust him, trust he would be safe, trust that if anything had went wrong Cassian'd have sent the distress signal. There had been no incoming transmissions at all. Still, Jyn couldn't help the little voice from nagging at the back of her mind, which kept ruminating on her idleness, which kept insisting she shouldn't have backed down — _since when do you care about a chain of command_ —, which kept insisting that he would have been _safer_ if she'd tagged along, if she were _watching his back_.

Unless-

She stirred the water a little too quickly; the spoon clanked, pressed down on the base of the pot. She pushed the thought to the depths of her mind as soon as it popped up. Her free hand turned white, clutching the edge of the counter. She bit her lower lip.

Apparently not thinking wasn't her strongest suit that day. Damned her idea of going through those files in Cassian's data-pad, she should've left them alone in the first place. The vivid, raw brutality described in those reports kept coming back to her, images and sounds flickering and echoing through her mind, sending shivers down her spine.

She turned off the heat, clutched her neck, fingertips feeling the worn chord of her necklace. She blew out a sigh before pouring the liquid through the strainer into a cup.

"Everything okay?" Bodhi's voice was low, thoughtful, tainted with worry like hers had moments earlier.

She nodded, back still to him, even hummed to dispel his concerns. Something told her that, much like when the situation had been reversed earlier, wouldn't be enough to convince him, even though he might chose not to show it.

No sooner had she left the steaming cast-plast mug on the table, she heard the distinct clanks and clangs of the access ramp getting opened. Jyn barely registered having moved, but she was briskly striding out of the galley.

Over the noise of the ramp lowering, she picked up the fenwolf's howl, announcing their return. The clatter of her steps blacked each other out; her parted lips let a huge, heavy breath broke free. All tension unwrapped loose; there was a sudden lightness to her body, as she practically covered the remaining meters separating her from the lowered ramp.

She bit her lips, to keep at bay the smile tugging at them.

Baze stood by the opened hatch, staring outside. Jyn walked past him and onto the ramp.

She was greeted by an impossibly icy cold gush of wind. The mellow patch of light fanned out the ship, penetrating the shadows of the dessert night, warmer hues against the cold blue and purple tinting the sky above, melting gloom into red and gold.

The light was dim, but bright enough for her to see. Her eyes squinted, catching movement amidst the shadows.

 

The fenwolf stepped into the light.

Jyn's throat tightened into a knot.

The fenwolf walked closer—

Jyn choked with her own breath.

The fenwolf had returned—

_Cassian hadn't._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so terribly sorry it took me way longer than expected to post the next chapter, but here it is :) Yes, the update took forever, I know. I hope it didn't disappoint, though. Thanks for all your support and encouragement, it truly means a lot! ♥


	3. Echoes in the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn won't sit idly by and leave Cassian to his fate. Cassian never left her behind, now it was her turn to come back for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I've come bearing the next chapter! Hope you enjoy :)

Jyn could only stare at the fenwolf. She could only stare at it and feel her own throat smothering her, knotting up with a vicious grip. She tried to suck in a breath, the air burnt and didn't reach her lungs, got stuck at the back of her mouth. Each thump of her heart hammering in her ears—

He couldn't be— if something had happened he would— he had the comm— it couldn't—

When she blinked, the sting in her eyes was so unbearable that instead of blinking away the tears, she had to squeeze them shut. Spams swept through her chest, pounced on her throat. The clawing tore a sob out, choked, ragged, that she found herself muffling with her hand.

Pain at the corners of her eyelids, she kept her gaze shielded from the night and the distressing implication before her. The chord of the necklace suddenly abrading her skin, she clutched the kyber until pain blossomed in her hand.

He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't have died—

She took a deep breath; eyes still burning, heart still pounding.

He _wasn't_ dead.

She felt it in her bones. He couldn't be dead. Had he been captured he would have managed to contact them somehow because —the mere thought sent shivers down her spine— he had the pill.

He had the lullaby.

Had he been captured— Cassian would never give the Empire the chance of knowing not even a modicum about the Rebellion. He would never give in and surrender information that could jeopardize the cause—

_Better dead than captured._

If he had been captured, he would have told them to leave the planet immediately. If he had been captured, he would have taken the pill. Because the rebellion was more important than him, more important than his life.

He could perish, but the Rebellion had to _survive_.

There had been no incoming transmissions, no distress signals of any kind, no messages encoded of any sort.

She clutched the kyber tighter. When she sucked in a breath, it itched, sting and burn. And yet, the painful inhale invaded her lungs, swelled her chest. Her eyes fluttered open. The cold desert wind ruffled her hair, the gush made it whip at her cheeks, neck. Numbing, a flash of fluttering pain.

He was alive. There was no other explanation. Otherwise Baze would be dragging her inside the shuttle, she would be kicking and screaming and clawing trying to stay on the surface, to get back to him.

Well, Jyn thought, clenching her jaw, she was going to get him back.

 

"You are not going alone."

The voice had the unyielding note that made it very clear that it wasn't up for debate. Jyn looked up from the scandocs scattered on the table, fingers fidgeting with the tester. The holo flickered, blurring sideways with the grinding whisper of static.

Baze was practically piercing her with his stare, all squared shoulders and folded arms. She didn't know how to react exactly, suddenly realizing she'd stormed inside the shuttle and without saying a word had started going over her stock of forged scandocs, while everyone followed her every move with watchful, concerned gazes.

Overwhelmed, she'd forgotten she wasn't alone anymore.

"What are you suggesting?" Jyn asked, resting her palms on the table, fingers hurting from clutching and pressing on the cold steel.

Baze frowned, let out a sound in between a grunt and a sigh before tightening the wrap of his arms over his chest.

"What did you have in mind?" the man asked instead, shifting his weight to one side.

Jyn considered the options. There weren't many. Either they entered the outpost as some sort of nomads, or impersonating imperials. At first she had tossed away the idea of the latter façade, but it seemed now the only viable option. Granted, posing as nomads or travelers would leave them more free room to operate and navigate through fabricated stories for their personas– but if Imperials were on the alert that a dissident had just been captured, two people who nobody had ever seen before on the face of this planet arriving at the outpost would be incredibly and extremely suspicious.

It will make all alarms go off.

Jyn didn't like the idea of impersonating imperials in the slightest. Not because the previous experience didn't precisely bring fond memories, but rather because having to rely on forged scandocs left too many loose ends that could go awry, even before they managed to set foot into town. Like being captured right at the entrance.

She trusted her forgery. It had saved her many times throughout her life, in one way or another, and she knew her way around to fool even the most rigorous inspections. Jyn had managed forgeries that had fooled even imperials at the upper tier. She knew her craft, how to disguise to the naked eye for all the passage and codes to appear authentic and pass even the highest security measures.

All eyes were on her. Bodhi, staring at her with squared shoulders, lifted chin and jutted out chest. Chirrut, clutching his staff. Baze, all seriousness and stoicism, forehead plagued with creases. Even K-2SO, arms slack and towering height, light flickering in his fotorreceptors bright, strong.

"Disguise as imperials, break through security, get him out," she said, finally, voice firmer and resolute than her actual confidence.

"How certain are we he has not been captured?" Baze question was flat, monotone, but there was a roundness to his eyes that had little to do with fear.

 _And not killed_ , Jyn filled the gap in her head.

"He'd have let us know, he would have told us to flee," she replied, weight resting on the table and her fingers turning a ghostly white under the table. She swallowed, hoping that everyone understood what she was implying; she didn't want to voice any of it out.

Baze shifted his weight and frowned, Jyn saw the way his fingers twitched around his arm. His expression was clouded, the crease between his eyebrows deepened. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a sound, the metallic voice of the droid interjected—

"Cassian puts the rebellion first," it was a fact, not a thesis, "Captain Andor would have order us to leave him behind and do not jeopardize the integrity of the cause. There have been no incoming transmission, distress signals or otherwise," the droid reasoned in a flat, monochord stream, "his cover was compromised."

 _Cover compromised_ , being hunted down by imperials but not yet captured—

Jyn couldn't leave Cassian to his fate. Cassian had not left her to her fate neither on Jedha, nor on Eadu, not even on Scarif. He'd always come back for her—

Now it was her turn.

"How do we know," when Bodhi spoke Jyn stopped short and her fingers hovered over the scandoc edge, inches away from touching it, "that this is what he wants us to do?"

When she grabbed the scandoc with one quick swift, the durasteel beneath screeched. Jyn felt the muscles of his arm tensing, clawing all the way up to her neck and knotting her jaw. Her fingers curled into her palm and the edges dug into her palm.

She wanted to argue that they couldn't… abandon him, leave him behind. But she knew that sentimentality-driven response wasn't sensible, regardless of her feelings towards Cassian, regardless of the worry that everyone on that ship had for his safety.

"We have to get him back," she replied eventually, voice firm, "he knows too much— he's a valuable asset for the Rebellion," Jyn found herself saying, a shiver clawing up her back at hearing herself sounding too much like Draven for her own liking. Still, she was rationalizing her decision, "leaving him behind it's a risk. We're basically operating under the assumption that the Empire won't manage to get to him before he—" the word got stuck in her throat, smothering. Baze shifted his weight, Bodhi looked down. For a flickering moment the silence turned dense, heavy, air unbreathable with the implication suspended in it. "We've no way of knowing if they'd captured him nonetheless— he's a spy, the Empire will want to worm everything out of him—"

After all, had Cassian been able to contact Kay when Saw's partisans had captured them on Jedha?

"We need a plan," the tone of Bodhi's voice was resolute, taking a step closer. He took a step closer.

"I was thinking— disguising as an Imperial officer," she said, clearing her throat, "and someone else as a Stomtrooper," she heaved a sigh, twiddling her fingers, "sorry, as a Scout trooper," she corrected herself, tucking a rebellious lock of hair behind her ear.

Everyone was staring at her.

"Baze?"

The man nodded.

Something both light and heavy thumped in her chest. Bodhi gave her a sharp nod, "I'll have the ship ready to take off."

A smile tugged at her lips, broke trembling in her face for a fleeting moment. She looked down, stared at the scandocs—

She turned, but the droid was already on his way out, hastily shuffling and clanking to the cargo hold to get the speeder bikes ready.

* * *

 

_Outpoust. Dibrook Moon. 5 standard hours ago._

Cassian entered the town after a hasty but thorough inspection of the troopers stationed at the entrance. Getting in had been easy, the real challenge now laid before him— blend in in the crowd, not raise suspicions of any kind nor attention towards him, retrieve the intel and leave the same way he'd arrived. Without being noticed, as if he was but another nomad in passing trying his luck at another outpost.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the curious looks from children eyeing the fenwolf in amazement. One of them, the twi'lek girl with round yellow eyes and turquoise skin that the layer of dust and salt caking it gave a deeper shade of green, took a few steps forward, lifting a hand of trembling fingers. But she soon recoiled when the creature sniffed in her direction—

Cassian nodded briefly, and drew the reins towards him. The fenwolf stopped short, and the girls shot him curious smiles of squinting eyes. The chuckle gave him a taste of dust and salt, sticking to his mouth, stinging his throat. The sensation soon died out, along with the fleeting laughter that had overtook his chest.

His gaze couldn't help but notice the hand of the Empire all around him. The hardships it had brought were littered all around him. Humble, simple people, beaten into submission and fear. The eyes that looked in his direction were watchful and fearful rather than merely distrustful of a new stranger arriving in town. Cassian noticed them shying away from him, ducking their heads, pretending they hadn't been looking his way—

Their clothes were simple, but worn, and more often than rarely even shabby out of both use and time. He saw a group of Stormtroopers turning the street, flanking a group of miners —villagers— caked head to toe in dust, salt and exhaustion. His fingers curled and the reins dug into his palms. Cassian knew perfectly well how the Imperials operated— occupying moons, covertly and overtly enslaving the population, stripping the occupied land and its people from their resources and wealth, leave behind nothing but beings too jaded to fight back, and a world who would never be able to recover, much less stand on its own.

They counted on that leverage. It was one of the many ways in which the Empire exerted its power to smother all opposition. Impoverishing and deteriorating people created dependence from the Empire to survive, pressuring entire world into submission. The weight on the scale of necessities could be too heavy, yielding knees onto the ground, lowering gazes and hunching shoulders, hearts thumping with fear.

Pulling the right strings, the birth of major resistance movements were tensed and snapped short before consolidating. And blaster fire, planetary blockades, and burst of imperial cruiser canons shooting indiscriminately the world below did its fair share of convincing.

A smile tugged at his lips when he took the next turn. Because the Empire was unable to suffocate all flames of resistance, small embers kept burning, glinting in the dark. The smirk of satisfaction broke free on his face underneath the scarf when his gaze met the wall—

Either whomever had covered it had done a poor job on purpose, or the graffiti had been repainted so many times over the sandblasted concrete surface that all attempts of erasing it hadn't done much, as if it were impervious to fading.

There were red Aurebesh traces contrasting on the beige duracrete. Cassian could make out the words chaining together into a huge REBEL, almost as tall as and wide as the wall itself.

Pulling one rein towards him, he managed to move out of the way of a group of 'troopers on patrol. The duraplast of their armor was scraped, dented with ploughs in many places, dirtied and obscured to a duller white by dust and sand.

He noticed there was no high commander nor officer flanking the group; all he could see was the regular, usual white Stormtrooper armor as they walked past. His grip on the reins tightened. He was getting closer to the meeting point with his contact; the last thing he wanted was somehow lure an entire squad to the doorstep of a rebel and informant. He stopped and drew one rein towards him, with the crunch of salt crystals the fenwolf turned hastily to a side narrow street. A quick glance back while pretending to be checking the saddle eased the tightness on his chest, Stormtroopers cowering in the distance.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the locals shooting him brief, inquisitive looks in his direction when he walked past. The gazes weren't lingering, but shied away quickly after fixing on him for less than a second. His knuckles turned white when a teenage voice with a busted lip and a blackened eye did exactly that before staggering away—

This people bore the weight of the Empire's choke for anyone who cared to see. Problem was of course, not many cared about the conditions forced upon those living in backwater planets. They were but a smudge in the vacuum of abstraction, a whisper of a rumor created by the radical-leaning senators who wanted nothing but to plant seeds of lies in the unconscious of the populace. After all, hadn't all those preposterous and ridiculous claims been debunked by the HoloNet?

The street was practically deserted when Cassian hopped off the fenwolf. Tying the reins to the fence by the trough, he gave a sharp nod to the watchman before sauntering towards the apartment complex.

The building was shabby. Halo lights barely flickering on the hallways and most of the lightning actually came from the sunlight filtering through the windows. Walls with the duracrete flaking off, lighter patches of jagged edges littered all over the surface. Some flakes crunched under his heavy boots.

Right before taking the turn, his eyes narrowed, trying to adjust to the dim light. He stopped short all of a sudden, eyebrows squishing together. His finger felt the dents on the wall, a sharp dip with defined edges. His eyes followed the black lines contrasting against the duracrete, starting heavy and wide and then shriveling as they dragged on, fading into the duracrete.

He blew out a sigh. He looked over his shoulder one last time before taking the turn. He knocked on the durasteel once, twice. He could barely hear the ruffle of footsteps approaching. He pricked up his ears —the faint thuds didn't come one after the other. The approach was cautious, measured.

He tucked his hand into his jacket pockets, intently gazing away from the small window. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the curtain fluttering. He rolled his shoulders, tapped his feet on the duracrete as he waited.

Finally, the door slid open, revealing the face of a girl. Her eyes squinted when her gaze met him. Still softness and noticeable roundness to her face, she couldn't be no older than twelve, perhaps thirteen.

"Hi there," he said, softly, slowly drawing back his hands from his pockets and palms up, "sorry to bother you, I got _lost_ —" he trailed off.

The girl stepped aside, making a quick gesture. She signaled for him to take a seat at the table, where a woman already awaited.

"Shaya," he managed before the woman pulled him into a hug. Her hand on her shoulder trembled, "it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Cassian," the woman said, and he felt her shuddering, "I wish the circumstances were different," her voice drops, laced around a tired, perhaps also frustrated, sigh.

The smile somehow eased the wrinkles etched on her weathered-beaten face. The light made copper glows dance and sweep across her cheeks. She patted him on the very same shoulder she'd clasped feebly, before heaving out a sigh and gesturing to the chair next to her.

"Yoria, sweetie," the woman turned to the girl, who was standing next to the stove, eyeing a pot with a concentrated frown, "is the tea ready?"

The girl nodded, and reached out for the thermos flask, hooking a finger of her free hand on the handles of two duraplastic cups. Cassian's gaze fell on the bowl covered with a dull cloth that Shaya had slid in his direction. A lump build up in his throat.

"I'm fine, thank you," he declined with a slight bow of his head.

The woman raised an eyebrow and slid the bowl closer to him. The wooden table complained at the scrape, and Cassian lips curled into a small smile as he shook his head.

"You sure? It must have been a long journey," her voice was tender, tinged with a hint of worry—

Caring. Gentle brown eyes and a knowing frown flickered through Cassian's mind as he politely declined the offering again —the same look his mother use to give him when he refused to eat in the afternoon and insisted on going outside. Cassian swallowed the sigh, he wasn't going to grab anything from the little they had —not when he knew that surviving was an everyday struggle under strict smothering imperial occupation, not when all the Alliance efforts of overthrowing the imperial government and snatching the planet from their hands had gone to waste, not when they'd been unable to drop by the planet with supplies to help these people—

"I'm fine, thank you," he managed.

The woman nodded, handing the cup of tea. He watched the scene displaying before him in silence, sipping his tea as the sweet herbal scent delighting his senses. The woman had her back turned on him, guiding her daughter as she got everything ready for dinner, with careful instructions detailed over her shoulder. The girl, listening attentively, shuffled through the few spices, the chop chop of the knife coming into contact with the chopping board filled in the silences.

"Sorry," Shaya excused herself barely above a whisper, "let's get down to what's important —I gather time's a luxury."

Cassian couldn't agree more. He took a gulp of the tea.

"What do you have for me?" he asked, setting the cup on the table, fingertip brushing back and forth on the curve of the duraplast.

 

Shaya was beginning to explain the basics of the Intel when it happened. Cassian's whole body tensed, eyes going wide at the unmistakable sound. The woman's eyes round as well, there was a clank and the girl froze in her spot, eyeing the door with terror, lower lip trembling uncontrollably.

Cassian's stomach clenched as the rhythmical stomping of footsteps drew nearer.

* * *

 

 _Chin up_ , Jyn scolded herself, rolling her shoulders and straightening her stance as she sauntered down the village. Something venomous and fiery stirred behind her ribs, tearing and hurting at her inside, when she had to quirk her lips when a child bumped her.

She was an imperial. She'd to act like one, unless she wanted a free ticket back to an interrogation room, back to an imperial prison. The memories of Wobani sent shivers down her spine, pulse quickening and heartbeat thumping in her ears, deafening. She pushed the image of the downcast green eyes of the Twi'Lek girl together with the constricting grasp at her throat—

Or she tried.

She forced herself to swallow, but the discomfort kept clogging her throat. Taking a deep breath, she followed the main street down to the plaza. Many street vendors would be calling it a day, packing up their things to return home. Others would start their working day as workers, exhausted from working in the mines, went down to get a warm meal. The luckier ones would sought some sort of entertainment, whichever scarcity of it might remain in this land stricken by the Empire's controlling hand.

An officer and a scout trooper interrogating civilians out of the blue was nothing out of the ordinary, certainly nobody would dare to question such actions in the heart of an a town ruled with an iron fist. The salt crunched louder under her weight as she hurried her pace to a quicker, yet collected and saunter-like one. Baze walked by her side, rifle crossed over his chest. As they approached, she didn't miss his grip on the metal turning tighter.

The street light wasn’t ideal, bordering on dim, but it was enough for her trained eyes to study the surroundings.

Jyn had to suck in a breath to keep her expression neutral when she took notice of people rushing down the street, some of them looking over their shoulder with rounded eyes. When a woman practically clawed at her mouth, when she heard the choked sob, any doubt she might have felt whether it was anxiety or fear playing before her was wiped out when the woman's face contorted.

Fear. Heavy, pulsing, dreading fear.

Jyn's eyes squinted, she tried to make something out in the distance. All she could see were people fidgeting, visibly anxious, some of them panicking, trying to keep their fright in check to the best of their ability —especially when the Stormtroopers walked past, when Baze and her walked past as well.

They'd no way of knowing, of course. Jyn felt guilt bubbling, uncomfortable, in her chest. Trying to get some sort of information from these obviously scared locals disguised as Imperials would only make them feel more threatened —it was twisted, and left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to assure them there were under no danger, under no threat—     

But how long would their cover hold if they did that?

She squeezed her eyes shut for less than a second. Baze cough was distorted by the comm, but she saw him swiveling to the side and the dragging sound of his boot on the salt covered soil. Her gaze fixed on two vendors behind a stand, on the opposite end of the street. Jyn swallowed, fingers curling into her palm. They'd to start somewhere, didn't they?

They'd barely covered a few meters when a group of Stormtroopers chatting caught their attention, making Jyn stop short and nearly dig her heels into the ground.

"Have you heard," the distorted voice through the helmet comms seemed to flow with something vile, "about what happened earlier?"

"What about it?" the other said, the duraplast clanked when he rolled her shoulders.

Jyn's whole body tensed, tongue cleaved on the roof of her mouth. Her fingers twitched, the thump of her heart growing louder in her ears as the silence lingered, waiting for the trooper's response.

"We got another one," the static reverberated with chuckles and Jyn felt her blood solidifying in her veins, "the kriffing rebel thought he could fool us—"

Her knees bobbled and her breath got caught in her throat. Suddenly her legs weren't responding—

The words rippled through the air like an echo. Detached, alien, surreal —as if this couldn't really be happening—

"The squad got rid of him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part when I'm supposed to say something witty and clever to tie up the cliffhanger, but I am bad with that, so let me say that it will all become clearer in the next chapter. Thank you so much for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts n_n


	4. Light Seeping Through Cracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It can't be true, it can't be true, she told herself as her throat burned with the scream she had to push down her own throat. It couldn't be true, it couldn't be true, she told herself over and over again as her heart bled out.  
> It wasn't _real_. It couldn't be.  
>  After everything they'd robbed her of—  
> The Empire couldn't have taken Cassian from her too.  
> "We can't leave him," she repeated, barely above a ragged whisper. She couldn't just walk away and get off-world. She couldn't leave him there. Cassian had always come back for her— on Jedha, on Eadu, on Scarif. When the thought flickered through her mind, she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly a pang of pain swept through the corners of her eyelids.  
>  _Was it there anything to recover at all?_

Cassian could no longer tell if the thrumming sound in his ears was boots stomping or the thumps of his own heart. He saw Yoria, nailed in her spot, her whole body trembling violently, glistening eyes rounded in horror. The footsteps drew nearer and _nearer_ —

And Yoria was right in front of the window. Her silhouette wouldn't go unnoticed for anyone who glanced in that direction, even if there was a blind and curtains in between.

Cassian reacted. He flung himself across the room and clutched the girl to his chest. He swallowed the grunt that overtook his throat when his back crashed violently with the duracrete wall. He pressed himself against it. He brought a hand to cover the girl's mouth.

His throat knotted. His own chest rattled with the fear-driven spasmodic tremble of the girl in his arms. He shushed, trying to calm her down. Too challenging a prospect, when he could barely bring his tongue to articulate any sound at all.

"Sh, it's okay. It will be okay," he whispered, gently stroking her forehead in spite of the slight tremor taking hold of his own hand.

His hand might stifle Yoria's cries to the ears of the Stormtroopers outside. But he could hear perfectly the whimpers escaping her. He could feel the warmth of her tears sliding down his hand and wrist.

The footsteps were ringing clearer, closer.

Cassian held his breath. In those endless seconds, his mind rushed. If they were indeed coming for him he had no time to think where he had kriffed it, what exactly gave him away, nor how they had managed to reach the conclusion that he was a rebel. Instead, he calculated how long it would take them to either tear down the durasteel door or crack the security code and slide it open. A minute, perhaps a minute and a half. Not more than two, tops. That meant Yoria and Shaya had two minutes to escape.

He couldn't risk their safety like that; parting ways was the most sensitive option. For the sakes of every party involved.

The window above the sink was narrow, but wide enough for both women to slide through. It was a short fall, less than a meter, to the roof below. Another five to cover on foot until they could slid down to the roof of the adjacent building —from there it would be easier to access the narrow alleyway that would take them into the momentary safety of the street.

He would have to exit through the bedroom window. It would lead him to the same roof, but he would have to cover less distance until he could jump to the neighboring building, dash through two more different roofs before slide down to a side street. If he was lucky, the colourful cloth decoration of the street vendor stands would keep his descent out of sight.

Then he could go back and retrieve the fenwolf, worst case scenario he would have to leave the creature behind and leave town on foot, walk a few miles into the dessert before contacting Rogue One—

All that assuming that he didn't got captured at some point.

The lullaby seemed to weigh down on his pocket.

The footsteps drew nearer, too clear to be anywhere but right at the other side of the apartment door. His muscles twitched, ready to rise to his feet the moment they started banging on the durasteel—

And then they went away, stomping muffled by the distance. Soon afterwards a distant clanking filled the heavy unbreathable silence, a distinct clanking that made Cassian's blood run cold. He knew what was about to happen, so did the Yoria, who now started sobbing uncontrollably in his arms.

He did not miss the faint sound of screams. He braced himself for what was about to come next, his arm tightened around the girl. Even if she knew, even if she was expecting it— he knew fully well the kind of reaction it would invariably prompt in a heart and a mind overrun by fear.

When the blaster shots rang out, she screamed. Cassian squeezed his eyes shut, practically feeling that very scream tearing up his own throat. He forced himself to whisper re-assuring words into her ear. He didn't let go of her, did not untighten the wrap of his arm either, fearing that the uncontrollable shaking would claim hold over her again if she did.

She hadn't stopped crying. His own eyes were starting to sting. No matter how hard he swallowed, he couldn't swallow down the lump. The tension kept constricting his throat.

Footsteps broke the heavy gut-wrenching silence yet again. They drone out in the distance after what felt like an eternity. He didn't move a muscle. He waited, listening. He tried to even his breathing.

When he withdrew his hand covering the girl's mouth, he promptly brought a finger to his lips. The sight of her puffed eyelids, reddened eyes was a punch in his gut. He shushed, nodded, never breaking eye contact. He stroked her arm, in a vain effort of petering out the trembling of her body, in a vain effort of keeping the fear at bay. Vain effort because the girl choke down a sob and squeezed her eyes shut, face contorting with a pulsing dread that he was sure wouldn't leave her any time soon.

His gaze flickered to meet Shaya. Lips pressed together, she bowed her head lightly.

They waited, all senses on high alert, listening for any sound that might give away the presence of any remaining Stormtrooper. It wouldn't be the first time some stayed behind to ambush whomever dared to peer into what had gone down. It wouldn't be the first time they waited in the shadows to _take care of_ anyone close to their targets who might bring attention to the murder—

Either by instilling fear through threats, or either silencing them. 

 _Permanently_.

The light-blue colour of the sky tainted with spills of red as dusk advanced over the limpid. The numbers kept changing on the chrono.

He waited.

* * *

The stormtroopers kept talking. But her brain couldn't make out any other word after hearing what she'd feared the most.

 _It can't be true, it can't be true_ , she told herself as her throat burned with the scream she had to push down her own throat. It couldn't be true, it couldn't be true, she told herself over and over again as her heart bled out.

 _It can't be true. It can't be true_ —

He couldn't have left...

He couldn't have left her _too_.

He'd promised—

Cassian couldn't be _dead_.

Cassian had to be _alive_.

Cassian _wasn't dead_.

Cassian _was alive_.

They couldn't have taken that from her too.

They couldn't have taken Cassian. Not after they'd taken mama, Saw, papa, her childhood... her whole innocence—

They couldn't have taken him after they had put out her hope at Wobani.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be.

After everything they'd robbed her of—

_The Empire couldn't have taken Cassian from her too._

She curled her fingers into her palms, nearly digging her nails into her skin. The mixture of sorrow and anger ploughing half-moons on the soft tender flesh, little protection did her gloved hands offer.

The saline dust stuck to her nostrils and eyes. But the sting burning them red had another source entirely. She sucked in a breath, but the air wasn't reaching her lungs.

 _"We have to go,"_ Baze voice was but an eerie, faint echo breaking through the fogginess of her mind, _"now,"_ she felt him nudging her shoulder, fingers clasping, trying to push her upright.

But Jyn's legs didn't respond. She couldn't — _wouldn't_ — move. Her mind couldn't wrap around it… she couldn't just— they couldn't just go.

They couldn't leave him there.

Her knees were fused to the salt covered soil.

"We can't leave him," Baze's grasp on her shoulder tightened, and the plast of the armor dug pain on her shoulder. "We can't leave him," she repeated, barely above a ragged whisper. She couldn't just walk away and get off-world. She couldn't leave him there. Cassian had always come back for her— on Jedha, on Eadu, on Scarif.

When the thought flickered through her mind, she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly a pang of pain swept through the corners of her eyelids.

_W_ _as it there anything to recover at all?_

This time, Baze gripped her shoulder with a comforting squeeze. She sucked in a breath and lifted her chin up, sniffing, trying her best to keep herself from blinking too much. The tears brimming in her eyes had to stay confined behind her eyelids—

She felt the tremulous quivering of her lips, a part of her suddenly giving in to the sudden emptiness in her chest. But Jyn couldn't afford to cry now.

_Had she ever had that luxury anyway?_

Why an Imperial would have tears rolling down her face upon hearing a few 'troopers had taken care of a rebel?

Like many times before, Jyn couldn't afford herself to cry, to mourn the way her heart was screaming to her to do. Like so many times before, Jyn had to be stoic, come across as unbothered—

Impervious to _pain,_ impervious _to_ the suffering beating sorrow in her chest.

She had to be _strong_.

She'd to find—

She'd to find him.

The image of her father's corpse under the rain on Eadu flickered through her mind. The ghost of Cassian's firm grasp on her arm, dragging her, pulling her away, burned her skin. As if his hand had closed around her arm again.

There was no rain drowning out the sound of Baze's voice on Dibrook. And yet, it was raining. A waterless rain was pouring down on her. And just like on Eadu, it felt cold. Deadly cold.

She took a step, and then another, and another and another. She heard the heavy shuffle of Baze following close behind. Her hand curled into a fist, the sorrow gave room to a seething rage that clenched her jaw.

She was going to find wherever that firing squad had thrown him to the Force. He was going to track it down, and find him.

And as much as her mind refused to really believe it, Jyn wasn't going to leave just like that. Cassian didn't deserve to be... forgotten. He deserved at least a proper burial, not an anonymous unmarked grave on the desert.

She swallowed down another sob.

And kept walking.

* * *

Cassian peered into the hallway, leaning forward barely above the edge of the doorframe, one swift glance to each end of the corridor. One hand to his hip, palm on the cold durasteel, he took a tentative step forward. Heel, sole and then tip slowly pressed on the tampered discolored permacrete.

He kept still for a moment, listening for any sudden strange noise that sounded out of place. Nothing but the silence answered him back. The faint rustle of the wind blowing outside was all that broke that deafening absence of sound that almost made his ears whistle.

The numbers in the chrono had changed until minutes turned to hours. Still, this silence was a double-edge blade. It could well mean the Stormtroopers had left for good, but it also meant that people hadn't left their homes after the raid. It meant they were still barricaded behind their closed doors, pressed against walls, still too afraid to even move or breathe too loud. Waiting, expecting for the danger to pass—

Except that the danger would _never_ be over. Not for them. Not as long as the Empire could go after anyone they assumed was in on something, and kill whomever they deemed as a subversive.

The danger will never be over as long as they could push these people into submission through fear, through terror.

They would never be truly safe as long as the Empire flag kept fluttering in the breeze. They could never breathe at ease as long as a man in a grey uniform at the top decided what justice was. They would never be truly free until the Empire was brought to its knees.

Troopers would keep banging on doors, tearing them down. Troopers would keep on aiming their blasters at innocents and at those who fought for justice. The air would burst into colours with quick, bright light brushes of blaster shots. Death would still thrive.

_And terror would prevail._

The 'troopers hadn't even bothered to mask their deed. They hadn't even bothered to make it look like a violent robbery, not even like a break-in.

The mess of objects scattered on the floor (a data-pad, shards of glass and ceramic, a chair) was confined to a narrow path. It started at the table, followed into a narrow hallway. Cassian needn't have had the dim light of dusk illuminating the end of that corridor. He knew perfectly well what he would find when he stepped into the apartment.

A middle-aged man laid on his back, arms and legs sprawled unnaturally on the floor, his glassy eyes wide open staring at -but no longer seeing- the roof above his head. His jacket was churned into black there where the shots had hit him. The smell of scorched cotton and flesh still lingered in the air.

Cassian counted at least ten impacts on the body, a dozen more on the walls around him. A firing squad, that much was obvious. At least three, by the looks of it. With repeater blasters, most likely.

He narrowed his gaze when it fell upon the man's face. He curled his fingers, tight into his palm, to avoid reaching out and close his eyes.

He maneuvered his way in the apartment, tiptoeing, treading carefully to avoid moving anything, even the shards of broken glass scattered on the floor that were stealing glimmers from the golden dusk light.

It was risky staying there. But he had to know why the man had been murdered in a raid, by a firing squad, by stormtroopers who have stormed through the door. There had to be a reason— But no matter how much he looked around, how much he rummaged through the scarce belongings, no matter how hard he tried to find a common thread that brought all those hints together he couldn't come up with a wide picture that made sense.

He ran his hand over his face and covered his mouth. He tapped his fingers on his chin, once, twice, before blowing out a heavy sigh.

It could have also been at random. They could have sought nothing but to make an example out of this.

Cassian knew perfectly well that the Empire policy was acting as if every single suspect was guilty, not really caring whether or not those suspects in question might as well be innocent. Of course not.

The sigh that followed knotted his jaw this time, unlike the previous this was laced with contained boiling rage more than frustration.

After all, maintaining order and security was of utmost importance. The Empire was just safeguarding the tenets of the new order. They couldn't afford the galaxy to spiral down into the depravity of the Republic, could they? Measures had to be taken to ensure that.

There was nothing that signaled this man was a rebel of any sort. He was clearly not with the Alliance, or else Shaya would have known. There wasn't anything incriminatory in the apartment either; nothing that could point out this man _had been_ _plotting with the terrorist to overthrow the government_.

With gloves slid on, he opened a drawer. He took the small round portable holo-projector with tentative fingers; his thumb hovered over the button. Cassian licked his lips, weighing whether it was worth it or not. He glanced at the dead body out of the corner of his eye. Little would he mind now about an invasion of privacy, would he? He switched down the volume knob.

And then the reason for his murdered materialized before his eyes in a quivering blue image spoiled by the static grains and lines that swept over and across it.

A lump built up in his throat.

_The man was teaching kids to read and write._

He was teaching them to _think_ for themselves.

Questioning one's world... In a galaxy where people were beaten into submission through fear, in a galaxy where all opposition was smothered through the indoctrination+ of minds, in a galaxy like that _thought_ was punished.

Thinking was punished. Thinking for oneself was opposing the Empire—

Anyone who prompted people to think critically was an enemy of the regime. Because thinking for oneself instead of blindly following what was being imposed on them was dangerous.

_Thinking was the first act of rebellion._

He left the holo-projector where he'd found it.

As he scuffled down the stairs he couldn't help but think that a man had died. And a spark of rebellion might as well have died out along with him.

* * *

"What—"

Little did the helmet do to hide his startle at her words. Jyn could practically hear Baze's frowning around that sigh, and she was half expecting him to try and talk her out of all this in the next breath.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Jyn managed to pass her astounded blinking off as just another feature of her neutral, yet determined, expression. She was expecting Baze to convince her to return to the ship and get off-world immediately, not to ask her whether if she really wanted to follow suit with this idea of hers, checking for certainty rather than talking her out of it.

She wanted to reach out and hug him, or at least squeeze his arm as a thank you... but the duraplast armor would have made it awkward. Not to mention it would have been odd to every by-stander witnessing the scene. Jyn was absolutely sure Imperial officers, whatever their rank was, didn't go around pulling Stormtroopers into hugs.

"It won't be," Baze hesitated, the silence heavy with worlds of implications no word could possibly be able to ever encompass, "easy," the man settled in for saying with caution, concern even evident in his static-modified voice.

"I know," Jyn replied, slightly bowing her head forward and her eyes fluttered shut for less than an instant, "but we can't—"

Leave him. _I_ can't leave him, she thought, not when he never did. Doing this wasn't sensible, it wasn't what could be qualified as rational either, it was an emotion-driven course of action. And Jyn knew it.

Baze knew it too.

But had it been sensible of Cassian going onto that platform? Had it been sensible putting himself in the line of fire and at mercy of the X-Wings cannons just to drag her away from danger? Had it been rational, had it been practical, when he himself had heard the message and knew about the flaw in the Death Star and how to destroy it? Hadn't it been more sensible that he'd just left her behind?

Hadn't he, on a subconscious level, also followed an emotional-driven course of action?

A little voice in her head whispered that he wouldn't want her to do this. Jyn wished that little voice was actually corporeal to fling a punch at it. Perhaps the rational part of her brain was right, but she knew that she would never be able to forgive herself if she left.

She'd left people she didn't want to leave at all.

She'd to leave Saw. She'd to leave papa.

She wasn't going to let the circumstances make her leave Cassian too.

They started sauntering along the streets again. Jyn clasped her hands behind her back and lifted her chin up again, gave her pace the proper tempo, and the heels of her boots clicked with one another on the salt crunching beneath her stride.

She sucked in a breath when the thought flickered through her mind, somehow managing to keep her eyes from stinging. She'd better start thinking on an reason that explained why a Stormtrooper and an officer would want _the dead body of a rebe_ l. 

* * *

Hunched-down shoulders, head down, reins tightly clasped in one hand Cassian walked the dusty streets of Dibrook. The feigned crestfallen demeanor gave him the chance to scan his surroundings, stealing glances out of the corner of his eye. He'd considered pulling up his hood, but that would have been impractical for more reasons than one. Above all, he didn't want to give the impression he was trying to go unnoticed. The last thing he needed was people thinking he was hiding from someone, or hiding something. It would turn heads his way and that was the least thing Cassian needed right now if he wanted to leave the town as overlooked as he'd got in.

An eerie sound distracted him from his train of thought, shoving him back to the now. A child was crying, rubbing her eye with a knuckle. The dust that flied permanently on Dibrook's air had settled white on her face, the tears streaming down her cheeks clabbered the powder at the base of her jaw.

The child stood there, crying. She didn't move, the people coming and going before her seemed to either not exist, or be of little importance.

Nightfall was an hour, or so, away.

Cassian knew why the little girl was crying. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together when one's gaze started to look rather than merely seeing. It was obvious as soon as one noted the visible angles of bone under the skin, the haggard eyes, the small pinched face, appearance gaunt where roundness should have been.

For some reason, the crying girl that Jyn had dragged to safety flickered through his mind in that very moment.

That girl had turned to dust, along with the Holy City.

A swift glance to his right. The reins itched in his palm. He reasoned that staying a few more minutes more in town wouldn't make that much of a difference.

He knew Dibrook nights were cold, almost icy cold. He also knew the days could be unbearably hot at times.

The wrinkles of the old Twi'lek merchant turned deeper at the corners of her mouth when she added another fruit after he'd handed her the credits.

The little girl's eyes rounded when he knelt down to her level and offered the lidded plast container and the two fruits. A softness long gone seemed to claw its way back into her tired face. Cassian found himself offering a small half-smile as well.

The girl hesitated, little hand of spread fingers hovering over the space and distance between them. Cassian nodded, and let his lips curl into a wider smile. The girl eyes seemed to glisten when she took the cup from his hands.

"Careful there," he said, barely above a whisper, when the hot steam swiled upwards.

He'd to insist for the girl to take the second fruit as well. She kept shaking her head, the more he insisted the more energetically she shook it from side to side, deep black hair swishing from left to right and a little finger pointing to himself, wordless insistence for him to keep it.

When he looked up his gaze met Shaya. The woman was smiling fondly at him from afar, amidst the crowd. The tension washed away when he saw her daughter right beside her.

Perhaps under different circumstances he would have seen it coming from a mile away. Perhaps he got distracted by the little girl. Perhaps it was the relief at knowing Shaya and Yoria were alright and the Empire wasn't at their heels what made him drop his guard instead.

For a fleeting moment, he stopped looking. He stopped paying attention.

_If you don't learn how to look, you're going to end up dead._

Cassian realised something was wrong when the fondness on Shaya's face vanished from one moment to the other, eyes rounding in horror, not looking at Cassian but at something _behind_ him.

Someone pushed him forward. A figure clothed head to toe in white dull duraplast coated in dust and salt. The trooper's arm hung slack on his sides, his hands far from holding up his rifle. Cassian didn't reach for his blaster, he took a step backwards when he saw the other three Stormtroopers approaching, both palms up.

 _He was nomad in passing, he wasn't looking for trouble._   

Five troopers circled around him. He was surrounded by people, _innocent_ people, the little girl barely half a metre to his left. There was no clear secure path to flee... pulling out the blaster when no threat or accusation had been thrown his way would have confirmed their suspicions, if any, that he had something to hide.

Not only that, but with all the commotion he'd let go the fenwolf reins.

"Seize him."

Cassian writhed under the troopers' grip. He dug his heels into ground, the salt crunched. He tried to wriggle free from their tight grasp, only prompting a tighter hold. His restless resistance then prompted a well-aimed kick to his back that not only knocked all air out from his lungs but also shoved him violently to the ground.

The ground whispered crunched as his boots grooved the irregular surface. Over his clouded perception, he did note he was being dragged to a narrower side street, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of even more Stormtroopers lugging more people along. He lifted up his gaze from the ground and what stared right back at him made his blood freeze in his veins.

Five other males had been forced to align in a straight line, one next to the other. Faces contorted with fear, eyes staring at the unperturbed Imperial officer that stood before them. When they dragged him past him, Cassian didn't miss his sneer, nor the way his upper lip quirked in disgust when the teen zabrak let out a choked sob.

Cassian's heart leapt into his throat when the 'troopers mimicked their formation right next to the Imperial officer. The grey uniform of the officer contrasted against the six white figures standing next to him. His eyes sharp, the sneer had mutated into a smirk as he stared at the beings before him.

"It appears someone's helping rebels around here," the officer snarled looking down, "would any of you happen to know anything about that?" The young zabrak kept crying, shaking his head.

The officer seemed to chuckle, then pursed his lips and clasped his hands behind his back. Nobody else said or did anything, aside from staring at the 'troopers, dread making them fidget on their spot. There was no use. If they didn't already suspect about one of them, this was meant as nothing else than an intimidating act put into motion out in the open for everyone to witness to remind the citizens _who_ had the _power,_ and whose actions were protected by the _law_ and deemed _justice_.

"Nobody, uh?" the officer asked in an utter arrogant tone, the sound almost breathy, resembling what Cassian took as a mocking chuckle.

Far from standing down, the stormtroopers grabbed their blasters. The sound of duraplast against durasteel clicked, ear-piercing and blood-freezing, over the faint rustle of the wind. Tears kept streaming down the zabrak's face, knees wobbling. The older men exchanged frantic looks of rounded, fear-filled eyes.

They were going to gun all of them down.

There was no way now he could grab his blaster and shoot all Stormtroopers in the blink of an eye like he'd done on Kafrene. The blood-curling sound of more clanking and feet trampling on hard ground.

They were going to make an _example_ out of them.

"Really?" A smug glow of wickedness flashed through the man's face when he asked the question, "nobody knows anything?"

These people were going to die, indirectly, _because of him_. The choked sobs of the young boy knotted his throat.

Nothing, even if he gave himself in, would ensure these people would walk away unharmed. For all Cassian knew, they could —and would— kill them anyway. Hadn't Eadu proven so?

If it came down to it, would he even have time to take the lullaby?

 _"Please... I didn't do anything... I don't know anything,"_ Cassian barely heard the whispered whimper over the drumming of his own heart thumping in his ears.

A human, five years older than Cassian at most, fixed his gaze on him an instant longer than anyone else in that moment of desperation. Something like recognition flickered through the man's weathered face.

He _knew_. 

 

The high-pitched sound of blaster fire punctured the silence.

A body fell to the ground with a thud.

A little girl broke down in tears.

People looked down.

A wicked grin of satisfaction split the officer's face.

A rebel had been taken care of.

Peace, order and security had been safeguarded once again.

The threat had been dealt with.

Justice had been served.

_All was well in the Galactic Empire._

* * *

"Of course. Follow me."

Jyn couldn't yet believe that had worked. But she guessed that imperials were truly _that_ ruthless when it came to hunt down anyone for _treason_.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what would come next. She couldn't think of a convincing enough reason that would allow them to leave with— the body, no questions asked.

Bitterly, she thought perhaps she should have brought K-2SO along. He would have certainly been of much help in the event of a quick retreat or— whatever it was they would try to pull next.

It was too late for that now, was it? 

Jynś fingers twitched in that feeble orderly clasp of back of hand on palm behind her back. If it came down to it, she was ready to shoot and punch her way out of there.

The Stormtrooper lead Jyn and Baze through a side street, then another. When she looked up, her stomach clenched at the sight of the five other figures in white standing diligently in a perfect circle. She sucked in another breath, tried to mask it with a cough. The closer they got, the more her throat tightened. She was starting to feel that unwelcoming burning feeling in her eyes, could practically feel them slowly brimming with tears.

"Just in time," the sound of the distorted voice rang again, "you wouldn't have found anything, had you come later. You know, _standard procedure_ and all," Jyn felt her jaw clenching, "we wouldn't have been able to assist you— no matter how much my superior officer would have wanted to."

"Naturally," Jyn replied, forcing the smile.

She managed to give her voice a conceited edge, conjuring to her mind the image of stabbing that bastard with the vibroblade that kept brushing against her ankle with every step. She pictured the blade sliding under the helmet, silencing the voice who had just insinuated they hadn't thrown him into a secret, dark deep pit somewhere in the countryside yet.

Jyn cleared her throat to mask her sudden ragged sigh. She bit the rim of her tongue to keep herself from swallowing when two of the 'troopers on guard moved aside to let her take a look at the body.

To say Jyn held her breath would have been misleading and quite far from the truth: she felt she couldn't breathe at all.

"Is this the rebel who ambushed you?"

Jyn blinked, forced herself to narrow her gaze appreciatively and ignore the lump in her throat.

"Yes."

_It couldn't be— could it—_

_"_ We didn't find any holo-cube with him, _"_ the captain continued, "whatever he stole from you he didn't have it by the time we captured him. You've mentioned it was—"

"Classified," Jyn found herself replying like an automat, somehow managing to let reason maneuver through the haze of overwhelmed emotions that was her mind.

"Of course," for some reason Jyn could no longer give a kriff about how long that feeble explanation would hold. "Now, if you follow me, I am sure the Admiral will be more than pleased to contact your—"

"If you don't mind Captain," the title burnt in her tongue, "I can walk there by myself. I am sure my Commander and I will have no trouble finding our way to the Admiral's residence, will we?"

"I'd rather escort you myself to—"

Jyn laughed; somehow she found the way to force a dry, soulless laugh out of her constricted throat.

"What's there to worry about, Captain?" she raised an eyebrow at the face covered in white and black duraplast helmet, "I was under the impression this town is safe from the rebel terrorists. Am I correct?"

Silence settled over the two of them for what felt like an eternity. The other troopers shifted uncomfortably in their spots. The Captain shifted its weight, and Jyn could feel the smile tugging at her lips. If he insisted, he would be implying the Empire was _failing_.

That wasn't even possible to voice out loud. The Empire never _failed_.

Even when it did.

"Thanks for your assistance, Captain... Ancora, right?"

The 'trooper straightened and squared his shoulders before giving a sharp nod.

Jyn let her lips curl into a smile before adding softly, "Don't have the slightest doubt that my superiors would hear of the remarkable job you're doing in this corner of the galaxy. It won't go unnoticed, that much I can assure you."

"I don't know what to... what to say—" the man hesitated, flustered.

"Then don't say anything, Captain, merely enjoy the results of your effort when the time comes."

With another swift slight nod, she turned on her heels and left, sauntering the dusty narrow street. Her fingers curled into her palm, boiling with rage, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't swallow down the lump in her throat.

At least, she found some sort of comfort knowing that the Alliance would drop by bearing anything but gifts in the near future. She wished she could be clothed head to toe on her Pathfinder gear when that happened. She wanted to hear Dibrook soil crunching beneath her boots when she could finally indulge in the revenge pulling at her muscles and itching on her skin.

 

"We have to get him out of here," Jyn nearly blabbered out, taking off the cap and unbuttoning the jacket. She could not stand the cloth draped around her and the tight collar around her neck any longer. The cloth swished when she shrugged out of it with haste.

Baze raised an eyebrow. Shielded from by-standers and imperials in the safety of the dark alleyway, he'd slid off the helmet.

"Jyn—" Baze's voice was soft, his hand closed around her arm in a gentle, comforting touch. Jyn didn't want to look up; she didn't want to stare right into the warm and fond sympathy of Baze's eyes.

"They didn't get him," she fought back the calmed demeanor with a hurried hiss; more to do with the rushed pace her thoughts were scrambling into her head. She run a hand through her hair, fluttered her eyes shut, trying to think, "We have to find him. We have to find him before—"

_"Jyn."_

In came the calm voice of Baze's again, accompanied by a gentle squeeze on her arm. Baze was like the whisper of calm amidst a ranging storm. But Jyn couldn't hear him, not really, at least not over the whirlwind in her head. She bit her lip and blew her frustrated sigh through her nose instead, as she tried to come up with something, anything that might help them find him.

 _"_ We need to come up with a plan, _"_ she muttered under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose to keep herself from grunting.

"Are you sure?" Baze merely asked, unperturbed. Jyn could practically see him shrugging.

"What do you mean?" she asked, face furrowing in confusion, looking up and at him at last.

A small smile was dangling on his lips, and the way his eyes squinted was oddly familiar. So familiar that it nearly made her stomach churn. Something fluttered in her chest when she realised Baze gaze was fixed somewhere but her, he was looking past her at some point in the distance.

And then Baze pointed at that point where his eyes were staring at with his index finger, the smile now breaking free on his face. Warm, soft.

When she turned on her heels, her heart missed a beat. When her gaze fell upon it, her heart hammered in her chest and her lungs momentarily forgot how to function. Before she realised what she was doing she'd covered the distance with strides as quick and long as her short legs allowed her to.

She pulled Cassian into a hug without as much of a second thought. She wrapped him in her arms and thrill beat quickly behind her ribs, loudly in her ears, when she felt his _warm_ body against her, his chest puffing up and out swaying against hers as he _breathed_. 

 _Alive_.

Jyn tried not to think too much about the haste with which his fingers had reached for her shoulder, like out of instinct. Her skin gave in under the gentle pressure of his fingertips, the dips he littered right below the edge of her clavicle as he pulled her closer. His relieved sighed tickled the crook of her neck, and not even an instant later she felt his nose brushing against it.

The hug lasted an instant. Jyn craned her neck and looked up, searching for his gaze. She found warm brown eyes gaping back at her, disbelief and sheer thrill rounding his eyes and wrinkling the corners of his mouth.

He didn't say anything, but she nodded.

 _I wasn't going to leave you behind,_ she wanted to say, but the smile sneaked in and broke free into her face before she could even utter a word.

Jyn was half expecting that overwhelming surprised elation to wash away from his face in seconds when the implications of her actions dawned on him. But the moment never came, and Cassian kept gazing at her. He even smiled back.

 

"Any idea how we are going to get out of here?"

Cassian asked, peering over the wall into the street, scanning the surroundings for any imperials. Baze and Jyn exchanged shy glances.

Change of circumstances, change of plans. And Jyn had never been more grateful for the unexpected catching her off-guard in the middle of a mission. She'd thought him dead—

Now the three of them had to get out of that town in one piece. And Jyn had an idea she thought may actually work and save their necks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me ages to update, and for that I am sorry. I kept going back and forth trying to polish both the prose and the imagery, mostly because I kept feeling that there was something missing and I still needed to do it justice for all what these symbols stand for and evoke. I hope I indeed succeeded in getting the messages and points across. This was a difficult chapter to write, both as a writing challenge and on a personal level, but I felt like the story and the tone of it needed it to put things into perspective. Albeit the themes covered, thank you all so much for reading and I hope the update did not disappoint!


	5. A Sudden Break In The Clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though they escape from the imperials, all of Rogue One has to deal with the aftermath after the mission. For Jyn and Cassian, this invariably means old feelings stirring and new feelings waking.

"I can't believe that worked," Cassian stammered, short of breath, as the ramp slid shut behind them.

"Me neither," Jyn confessed in a ragged murmur.

The ship rocked back and forth abruptly, her stomach did a tiny flop. If she concentrated enough, she might be able to hear the hum of the ship as it swept through hyperspace. They practically let themselves fell to the floor after hopping off the speeder bikes. Jyn met the durasteel with a thudded clank. A smile curled the corners of her trembling lips, and in the next puff of breath it broke broad and bright across her face. Cassian held her gaze. Somewhere behind him Baze let out his stentorian joyful laugh, but it reached her ears dulled, somewhat faint.

They'd been lucky one of Dibrook rebel cells had chosen that moment to strike an Imperial armament supply convoy. The fact said convoy was coming from the west seemed to be another wink from the Force itself. At first it had been so convenient and easy that Jyn had doubted whether it was a trap or not... it was only when they crossed the town entrance threshold without anyone even acknowledging them, troopers rushing in the opposite direction and walkers clanking their way up to the west wall, when Jyn let out a relieved sigh. Her heart roaring in her ears stopped clogging her throat and fluttered in her chest.

Her throat itched, and a carefree laugh escaped her throat. Cassian bit his lips before that shy smile of his trod its way into his face, etching to the creases and curves ploughing on his cheeks. Another longer, deeper, body-shaking laugh bubbled in her chest and tugged at her throat. She bit her lips, but could only stifle down the sound. She shuddered lightly when joy prickled at her muscles.

A pungent waft of salt and dust attacked her nostrils when Baze ruffled her hair as he walked past. Jyn tried to reach him, poke him in the arm in return, but her fingers slid over the duraplast, dusting off Dibrook caking the white surface in their stroke. And speaking of duraplast covered in dust, sand and salt—

All of them were draped head to toe on them. Those uniforms and that armour were not the only things in dire need of a washing, after all. And yet, Jyn couldn't bring herself to stand up, she took deep breaths, trying to even her breathing with little success —either because of their rushed escape or that bubbling shadow of laughter that was still holding her captive.

She tilted her head and searched for Baze's gaze.

"You should go first," she merely said, waving to the ladder leading to the upper deck. "You were the one wearing armour," she cleared her throat, "and you know," she finished very eloquently, waving more insistently to the staircase with a swift flourish of her hand.

The Guardian's brow creased and there was a familiar twinkle in his slightly narrowed eyes. He nodded, flashing Jyn that broad, bright smile of his that always felt more of a tight hug. He turned on his heels and a few clanks later he was disappearing up the ladder. Jyn's eyes fluttered shut, the durasteel cold under her hands, the faint hum of the ship, the calm serene murmur of Cassian's breathing.

Breathing—

Alive.

She bit the rim of her tongue, tried not to dwell too much on how that distant whisper unraveled all the tension still clinging to her body. The darkness she'd plunged herself into made her palms itch all of a sudden... that rustle, when the air puffed out his lungs.

The memory came flooding back. A cargo hold instead of an elevator. The faint croon of hyperspace outside, instead of distant echoes of war. The feeling of serene stillness instead of the electric feeling of impending death.

The warm tingle rippling through her chest was the same.

The similarities stirred every feeling she'd been pushing aside. The anxieties of the day had decided to grace her with overwhelming waves of those very emotions she'd been trying her hardest to pay no attention to. She bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath.

She had her misgivings about acting upon them.

The fear that people would leave her behind still preyed on her mind. It didn't matter that Cassian had proven time and time again he would always come back for her, regardless of mission or place. Jedha, Eadu and then Scarif. And yet she wouldn't be able to shake off that pulsing dread from her subconscious. The biggest problem was that _what if_ —

Those had to be the most damned word combination in the entire galaxy.

What if _he hadn’t come back for you?_ What if _he hadn't survived the fall?_ What if _he didn't want to see you when he woke up?_ What if _he didn't want to be a part of Rogue One?_

They were but a hypothetical scenarios that hadn't come to pass, but which uncertainty were painful thorns digging into her flesh. What if he'd changed his mind and now did not want her to stay? What if that moment in the elevator _hadn't_ meant for him what it had for her? What if it hadn't meant anything at all? What if her heart was playing tricks on her and she'd just saw things she wished were there on the medbay?

What if— what if— what if…

But it couldn't be, could it? She hadn't been imagining those shy smiles and gazes. Or was she misinterpreting the light flickering through his gaze when they locked eyes? Was this new-found slow-brewing closeness nothing more than genuine concern for her? Or was it there something else under the surface?

The ground she was standing on felt unstable under her feet. Restlessness on top of more restlessness, its heart-clenching grip wasn't going to ease any time soon, apparently. Jyn didn't like it when her heart thumped those emotions right into her mind. She did not want to unravel so much; If she did, she would be _exposed_ , she would be _vulnerable_. Life had taught her how risky that was.

Vulnerability was a weakness that could get her _hurt_ and yet—

And _yet_ Jyn couldn't stop thinking that comforting hug after that sleepless night hadn't been merely a hug, just like squeezing him in her arms moments earlier hadn't either. There was _something_ there, trudging into his face and coming alive when he'd smiled at her. Cassian had smiled at her, warmly; his face had softened when their gazes met. Cassian... didn't smile like that often, did he?

 

Of course, if Jyn had bothered to eye Cassian, she would have noticed he had been stealing glances at her for the past minute; shy gazes that carved shallow grooves on his weary face. A flutter in his chest that made his heart thump to a softer rhythm, an alien lightness that for a moment took a bit of the weight off his shoulders and blew away the fresh memory plaguing his mind.

He still remembered the smothering grip of fear clutching his throat. Having to choose between screaming he was the rebel so that lives would be spared, while knowing that could well mean an imperial _interrogation_ and the risk of jeopardizing the rebellion, or letting the 'troopers gun them all down—

And then the frantic, yet knowing, gaze of that man.

He'd thought he was done for.

* * *

 

_"Please... I didn't do anything... I don't know anything,"_ _Cassian barely heard the whispered whimper over the drumming of his own heart thumping in his ears._

_A human, five years older than Cassian at most, fixed his gaze on him an instant longer than anyone else in that moment of desperation. Something like recognition flickered through the man's weathered face._

_He_ knew _._  

Cassian's blood froze in his veins. His whole body tensed, bracing himself for what was about to happen next. Drown by a throat-clogging anxiousness; he couldn't really blame the other man for turning him over to the imperials. If he was fast enough, he'd even reach for the lullaby before they seized him—

But nothing he'd envisioned came to pass. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

The young man took a step forward, glared at the admiral dead in the eye and shouted, "long live the Rebellion!"

The Stormtroopers opened fire, flooding the air with a red glow. The man thumped to the ground, the hissing sound of blaster fire stifled the rest of his raging cry. Yet, the unspoken words lingered heavy in the air, echoing through the sudden oppressive silence.

_"Down with the Empire!"_

A girl started crying. The admiral let out a sinister, dry laugh. Cassian curled his fingers into his palms when the imperial spurned the body with his foot, a smug smirk crossing his face. He turned and gestured vaguely to the Stormtroopers, who quickly grabbed the corpse and dragged it away. The Admiral met Cassian's eye, triumphant smile still playing on his lips, and against every fiber of his being boiling with rage Cassian lowered his gaze.

The villagers looked away as the retinue walked past. The young Zabrak was crying, hugging his knees. The rest of the man were stunned, frozen in place, some still body and face down to the ground, too afraid to move. Cassian tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, saw the zabrak teen shaking, and failed.

When he scanned his surroundings, his stomach dropped. The fenwolf was nowhere in sight. The com-link was still in his front pocket, he could send a distress signal— his thumb hovered over the switch and then he heard the distinct sound of crying. A quick glimpse towards the sound, and his gaze fell upon two women, shushing and hugging their children in their arms. He tucked the com-link back into his pocket.

He had to find a way out that did not compromise the people's safety. It'd been jeopardized more than usual for one day. He lifted up his scarf and walked down the alley, as he made his way, he couldn't shake off the prickly feeling creeping over the back of his neck. He instinctively drew his hand towards his hip. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Shaya, the woman reached out and clasped his arm when he walked past. He stopped short; she gave his arm a tight, reassuring squeeze.  

"Lay low," he murmured.

He farewelled her with a curt nod.

A breath of wind came gusting through, the sand scratched at his face.  He looked up and realized it wouldn't be too long before the sun slid past the horizon; the impending twilight painted an umber light across the sky. Sad as they had been, the recent events could work in his favour. The imperials counted on having made an example that day, and by the fright smearing faces and the jolting fret gripping bodies it seemed they'd succeeded.

They believed they'd disposed of the rebel, he'd given no reason to turn heads in his direction— if he was cautious, he could leave town without any suspicions. He would have to walk a few miles before he could com Rogue One safely; by that time darkness would have gained upon the sky… but he would take his chances with the desert going into the cold and star flecked night over increasing the possibility of capture any day.

He only hoped, for the sake of the mission and their safety, that nobody did anything rushed.

 

He was a few blocks away from the town's entrance. He kept scolding himself to even his pace, keep it calm, but he couldn't shake off the feeling he was being followed. Most likely, his anxiety and paranoia had started to kick in. He sucked in a breath, trying to steady the uneasy pounding of the pulse beneath his ribs. With swift glances, he studied his immediate surroundings out of the corner of his eye.

Nothing seemed off and yet his throat clogged. They had not gone against his orders, they had not attempted to contact him, even though they'd made their reservations about the whole plan pretty clear. A part of him wished they'd left, hoped they'd weighed the safety of the Rebellion against his own and realized the best thing for the cause was for them to leave him here. Another part of him wished they hadn't… it was a sentimental and impractical, illogical thought to have at all. The idea mingled with flickers of tangled emotions that contradicted one another—

He wouldn't want them to risk their safety for him, not after everything they'd been through, not after everything they'd lost, not after the things they'd survived. Bodhi, who had broken free from the chains of the Empire, Baze and Chirrut, who had seen their people and world disappear, Jyn, who had lost her family and her life—

Cassian wouldn't want them to be under the boots of the Imperials again. He'd not bear if they put themselves in harm's way when they could escape, when they could keep fighting, when they could keep that hope alight… the hope everyone so desperately needed.

The salt crunched beneath his feet. He sighed, shouldering his way through the packed street. He moved aside to let a skittish teenage boy through. He rushed, and then from his peripheral vision Cassian caught a glimpse of the boy reaching out for the hand of a fretful girl, who kept casting sidelong glances to a group of 'troopers standing nearby.

He felt his pulse beat in his throat. His fingers twitched and curled, grasping at nothing but air. The memory of green eyes flickered through his mind—

And so the plight resurfaced yet again. Hadn't he deliberately gone against logic then? Eadu. Going into that platform had not been sensible, the Rebellion was firing upon it with all their might, he'd known about the flaw. He could have left. But he hadn't, he'd gone back for her.

Cassian couldn't leave her behind.

Cassian hadn't left her behind.

And the thought of her —of _Rogue One_ — not leaving him behind was… it was something he hadn't felt in a long time. Kay and he had been working on their own for so long that it wasn't only a team's worry about his safety he'd not dealt with in a long time, but also a team's reluctance to leave him behind. After so many years fighting, he'd accepted any mission might as well be his last. After so many years fighting, he'd made peace with the fact any potential partner on a mission would have to put the security of the Rebellion against his own —he wouldn't accept anything less. And deep down, he'd always dreaded to be the one making that call—

A notion he had grown more apprehensive about over the course of the last few months. A burden he'd rather not lay on anyone's shoulders but his.

It was perhaps all those emotions tangled together, that peculiar concoction brewing deep in chest what had his mind on edge, rather than getting out of that town in one piece. The best way to spare Rogue One all those things was the latter; if he did, they wouldn't be forced to make any tough decisions.

He'd to keep his mind grounded. He'd to sneak his way past the guards.

He untied the scarf, grunting. It was as if the salt of Dibrook was caking his palate; he shook the scarf to knock off the dust. He was twirling the cloth between his fingers back into place when he looked up. The air rushed out of his lungs, his eyes opening wider and wider as the realization of what was right in front of him dawned on him.

Even with the distance, he saw Baze's smile widening. When Jyn turned, something unravelled in his chest. Their gazes met and he felt weightless, the heavy burden sliding off his shoulders together with the swoosh of the wind. His mind was in a haze, and the scarf flapped at his neck.

He didn't know whether she reached out or he pulled her into a hug. His fingers skimmed on her shoulder, pads sinking into her back when she sought him out —he hadn't drew her closer, had he? Lapped in the warmth of her arms that seemed to squeeze tighter and tighter, Cassian thought he felt her tremble. He stroked her back, in hopes it would chafe the shuddering away. He couldn't cage his sigh of relief, and without realizing he nestled his face in the crook of her neck.

It was her who pulled back. He ducked his head, searching her gaze. A smile dangled on her lips, joy rounding her eyes. She nodded, he couldn't bring himself to utter a sound. So then her eyes narrowed, she looked down clamping her lips together, then looked up. She stared at him, her mouth slightly open as if she wanted to say something but couldn't. She ended up smiling, and Cassian found himself smiling back.

* * *

 

"How's your arm?" Jyn asked, almost shying away when she spoke.

"Fine," _thanks for asking_ , "doesn't hurt any more," Cassian said, stretching out his legs on the durasteel.

Jyn looked as if she was considering asking something else, the crease between her eyebrows and the way she nibbled at her lip gave her away —not that Cassian was becoming more and more familiar with her quirks.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, puckering her lips in a side frown. By her tone, she might as well have told him not to lie to him. "I mean," cautiousness softened her face and she looked away, clearing her throat, "you, ehm," she waved her hand back and forth, as if trying to snatch something, "winced."

She gestured vaguely to her back, mirroring clearer what she meant. Taken by surprise, Cassian didn't know what to answer. He only hoped he'd managed to mask his astonishment. Her gaze wasn't cold or piercing, but questioning; her gleaming eyes danced with curiosity as she stared back at him in silence.

"It's nothing," he assured with a soft voice and a shrug of his shoulders.

That probably hadn't been the brightest of ideas, for immediately afterwards he felt the wince tug at his face. A flare of stinging pain swept over his back, knotting his jaw. He forced the exhale in the most natural, calming way he could muster, only to see Jyn cocking an eyebrow at him. There was a knowing glint on her green eyes.

"I mean, it's probably nothing," he tried again. "Just a scratch," he cleared his throat before adding nonchalantly, "I'll just put some bacta on after I shower."

He scratched his chin, expecting to hear Jyn's follow-up retort. But there was only silence, he glanced up and saw her still staring at him, though her expression had morphed from the light gleam of curiosity to something that clouded her gaze. Worry, hesitation, he guessed. She fiddled with the cuff of her shirt, squinted and sighed. When they locked eyes again, she held and averted his gaze a few times before fixing it on him. Her expression grew serious; he could read the worry in her creased brow, and the hesitation in her slightly-parted lips.

"Mind if I—" her voice dropped and she trailed off. "Do you want me to take a look? I mean," she averted his gaze again, fixed it on her lap as she scratched her hair, where the bun met the back of her neck, "how you know you'd reach it? Considering your arm and all—"

Now it was Cassian's turn to shy away his gaze. He fumbled for words, and not knowing what to say exactly that wouldn't increase the potential awkwardness of the situation, he gave a little shrug and nodded. Besides, they were team mates, Cassian reasoned, it was natural and perfectly normal for team mates to tend to each other's wounds after a mission. He'd done so before working for intelligence, during his brief time as a member of the Rebellion ground forces not too long after Draven recruited him.

There wasn't any reason to feel suddenly _self-conscious_ about it.

In retrospect, there hadn't been anything to be embarrassed about locking eyes with Jyn, smiling from ear to ear, after they'd broken through Scarif atmosphere, and no reason to tore his gaze from her while practically biting down a smile, and yet—

He could have thanked her for the offer but refused, argued that he could just ask Kaytu to help him —after all, the droid had been helping him to do damage control after missions for years. He could have argued she didn't need to go to the trouble anyway. Instead, he slipped of his jacket as Jyn scooted closer.

Cassian was about to reach for the yoke of his shirt to pull it off when he stopped short, tension suddenly knotting his back, and not because the sudden movement had brought the sting of cloth over injured tissue. Not that Jyn hadn't— but that was _different_ , they were recovering in the medbay, it wasn't out of—

Why was he even thinking about that now? Hadn't he just reasoned there was nothing weird about it not a minute ago?

And when Jyn flashed him a small smile it clicked. Cassian didn't want to make her uncomfortable. His throat tightened, even with everything that had happened at Scarif, those had been desperate times, they'd watched each other's back and they'd kept each other alive in the face of a suicide mission. Those had been exceptional _atypical_ circumstances. This was poles apart. He'd no way of knowing where their boundaries laid.

But— her smile, so unlike the one that had spread, radiant, across her face on the data tower, and yet so similar. Ordinary. Sheepish.

He snapped back to reality nearly jolting, aware of Jyn's prying eyes lingering on him. She didn't look away this time. The small smile widened a little, but the next second she was pressing her lips together.

"I can, uhm, pull up the back to see—" Jyn practically stammered over her words. "So you don't have to take the shirt off," she added, her voice steadier, as she wrung her hands. "It'll be better... Not to make the wound worse," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and moistening her lips.

"Yeah, that's smart," he managed to force out of his mouth.

He shifted, turning his back to Jyn. He breathed in and she took it as a cue to grab the hem of his shirt. His breath caught in his throat when he heard her stifled gasp. She hadn't even lifted the fabric up to his shoulder blades. Cassian guessed that was from the 'trooper's kick.

"Stars, Cassian," Jyn let out. He felt the ghostly touch of her fingertips. "I think—I'll have to nurse and dress these," she said, and Cassian felt the light graze of her fingers, probably tracing around the worst wounds. "If not maybe with the water and all… they might get infected."

It was reasonable, and kriff, he definitely didn't want any dust, and especially any salt, going anywhere near those gashes.

"I'm obviously in no position to judge," he almost chuckled, trying to make light of the situation at the shock in Jyn's voice.

 "I'll be right back," she said, carefully lowering the fabric while stretching it towards her, to avoid brushing any of the injuries out of accident.

Cassian made a sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. The durasteel clanked as she hurried to the ladder. She climbed in a haste, clings and clanks at her every step. Cassian let out a heavy sigh, head bowed as he kneaded the back of his neck, hoping to relieve some of the tension that had built up during the day.

He bit the inside of his cheek, and chose to focus on the mission's outcome rather than on more immediate matters at hand. He tried to fit the intel into the ever growing map inside his head, but the links of that wide web he could think of didn't exactly match. He heaved another sigh, frustrated. There had to be something— he feared that if he let time drag on too long before figuring it out, something important would slip through his fingers.

Kay would tell him the events of that day hadn't precisely let him in the best place to be making any analysis on any intel. But Cassian had shrugged off Kaytu's assessments before, and whatever was behind that sudden shipment of troops to the Atrivis sector. Perhaps it'd be best to contact Catta as soon as he'd the chance.

Jangling announced Jyn's return. He heard her mumble what that sounded too much like a colourful curse in Huttesse, so he rose to his feet and peered up the staircase. He was greeted by a Jyn with her jaw set, her bun had loosened, and there were strands and wisps of hair framing her frustrated face.

"Need a hand with that?" he asked.

Jyn jolted and nearly fell off the edge of the hatch.

 

Jyn tilted the thermos flask and poured the lukewarm water into the two separate duraplast tubs. She might have to take a few trips back to the galley for more water, she soaked the gauze and wrung out the excess with one hand, whilst pulling up the shirt with the other. Carefully, she rubbed off the dirt surrounding the gashes and cuts, avoiding touching the injured tissue and catching the droplets of salty and dirty water that meandered down Cassian's back, before they reached any wounds—

Which was proven difficult, given she could only really use one hand for the task. She clicked her tongue, letting out a curse under her breath.

"You want me to take the shirt off?" Cassian asked and her fingers twitched. Apparently her mumble hadn't been low enough as she'd thought. "I— it'd make it easier for you," he quickly added, nearly stumbling over the words.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips, "alright."

Cassian reached over his head and pulled the back of his shirt up, and over his head, not taking it off completely. He hunched forward, arms resting across his lap, rendering the shirt a crumpled mess.  She got back to the task, working quicker, Cassian squirmed from time to time and Jyn made a mental note to put less pressure where the bruises had started to colour.

She frowned as she rubbed a new piece of gauze, moist with clean water, all over the already washed skin. Some of the injuries appeared to have symmetry to the way they were littered on his back, while others did not. Had he got in a fight before, after or while getting captured? Had they—

She shook her head and bit her tongue, keeping herself from looking for any signs of other —more serious— wounds. Cassian wouldn't have been able to hide them this long if they existed, would he? She consoled herself with the idea he wouldn't be able to keep something like that without anyone noticing… or that if it had happened he'd have told her. She would have a way of finding out, surely, if that had been the case.

She was halfway cleaning the cuts and gashes when an idea crossed her mind. Her throat tightened almost instantly, she blinked furiously and sniffed when the memory came flooding back.

"Everything alright?" Cassian asked, head slightly turned towards her.

Under different circumstances, Jyn might have wondered how exactly he did that. Instead, she rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, and sighed in relief when she found them dry. At least she hadn't started crying without realizing— not that her eyes didn't sting and her throat hadn't closed when she choked down the tears.

"Yeah," she assured in the calmer voice she could muster. "Everything's fine," she echoed him, hoping that her intake of breath had masked her sniff. "How are you holding up there?"

"I'm good," he answered, shifting and facing the durasteel wall, now with no intentions of looking over his shoulder.

Jyn leant forward and inspected the cuts up-close. She couldn't see any salt, dirt or residue intersecting the reddish, rosy gleam of scuffed skin. She bit her lip, drawing in a breath and forcing it out of her lungs in a soft, steady puff. Perhaps it would be better not to ask, the mere idea had sent her heart down memory lane, maybe being kept in the dark just this once would do her good.

The medkit clanked, she frowned as her gaze meandered from the bacta patches to the spray bottle of kolto. Biting the rim of her tongue, she grabbed both, and settled for applying the bacta on the deeper wounds and kolto on the more superficial cuts and scratches. She also took the package of waterproof cover patches.

Cassian's breathing was deeper, steadier. The initial tension had seemed to have unwrapped from his shoulders. Jyn tried not to give it too much thought, or considering he seemed to relax under her touch. She was probably overthinking it anyway, surely it was merely out of relief at the pain easing.

Cassian twitched away when her fingers accidentally grazed over an uncovered gash.

"Sorry about that."

"It's okay," he heaved.

Jyn bit her lip and patched up the cut. Maybe she should just… let it be, ignore the worry eating at her insides, she would know eventually if he'd been more severely injured—

"What happened?" she found herself asking instead.

She did not specify what she was referring to, his wounds or the mission going south.

Cassian let out a long heavy sigh, and Jyn figured he wouldn't be getting an answer out of him when the seconds stretched out without an answer. She got back to the kolto, the bacta and the patches.

"There was a raid," Cassian's grave voice started her.

He fell silent again. Jyn waited, patch hovering above the gash. The tension had returned to his shoulders, and hard lines swept over his back, as another heavy sigh escaped him. Jyn had seen what Imperials did on those raids, and the horror she had not seen herself, she had heard it by word of mouth. Still, clearly there was more to it, perhaps it would be best not to press for details.

"They weren't after me… or my contact," he spoke again, "though at first I assumed they were." He paused, rolling his shoulders. "They… they killed a man in his apartment," he continued, his voice levelled, in spite of the hesitation, "I figured it would be safer to leave as soon as I could. I was getting out of town when—" he trailed off, Jyn's throat tightened, "when they captured me."

Jyn's breath caught in her chest.

"They had taken a handful other men, even… even a teenager," his voice was flat and almost drifted off on that last word. "They rounded us up and an Admiral—" the tautness grew on his back as he fell silent, "wanted to know who was helping the rebels."

Jyn's eyes prickled with unshed tears, her throat so tight she could barely breathe. The memory came flooding back, gripping viciously at her and tearing off the little scarring her heart had managed to do over the last months.

"A man took the blame. And they gunned him down in front of everyone."

His voice was faint, distant, reaching her as if she was underwater.

"It wasn't your fault," she said.

It wasn't until Cassian angled his head to look at her, that she realized she'd reached out for his shoulder and was squeezing it in reassurance. A sad emotion clouded his eyes. A long, heavy sigh escaped him, his face betrayed no emotion at all yet Jyn noticed how haggard he looked in that very moment.

He met her gaze and his face tightened. He looked away, shoulders dropping.

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself," he said under his breath.

Jyn guessed she wasn't meant to hear that, but she squeezed his shoulder again in a comforting gesture. Cassian seemed to go rigid under her touch for a moment then loosened up, slowly, as if the pinch of her fingers had untied a knot.  

A smile tugged at her lips, unannounced. She was about to withdraw her hand and finish patching him up, when she felt the light weight and warmth of his hand on hers. The pads of his fingers brushed featherlike across her wrist. She tried to ignore the spark that shot up her arm at the gentle brush of skin against skin, tried to steady the sudden uneasy pounding of the pulse beneath her ribs. Yet, no matter how hard she set her mind to it, her heart kept fluttering in her chest as she got the last patches in place. 

* * *

 

"Shouldn't you have told our teammates you were done fifteen minutes ago?"

Baze grunted, and glided the comb through his hair. A smile was dangling on the corners of Chirrut's mouth as he felt the kyber on his staff. Baze had successfully got rid of a tangle when Chirrut made a soft sound on the back of his throat, too close to a hum. Baze rolled his eyes and managed to keep himself from grunting again. He looked up, and a bright, knowing smile was plastered on his partner's face.

"Baze?"

"They seemed busy enough," he said, voice flat. "And we don't seem to be on a schedule right now, are we? Figured they'll just ask when she's done patching down the captain," he reasoned, his shoulders giving a little shrug. "You know… if it worries you so much, you can always tell them yourself."

Chirrut's smile only broadened.

"Why should I? All is as the Force wills it."

 

Jyn forced the air out of her lungs. It came in a shaky breath, as she felt the kyber prism with her thumb. She bit her lip, staring at how the light played on the translucent crystal. The sting returned to her eyes and she swallowed, in an effort to keep her throat from tightening again. Her thoughts went out to her mother, Jyn's eyes fluttered shut and she squeezed them tight. She swallowed again, trying to conjure to her memory the last time she'd seen her mother alive. It terrified her, knowing that throughout the years there were details that had slowly ebbed away, blurred in time.  She could no longer remember, had her mother smiled before and after pulling her into that last hug? Perhaps what made her heart bleed the most was she could no longer remember for sure if the voice she recalled in her head was hers, was that her mother's voice? Was that how she really sounded, or had time claimed another part of her past from her?

From Lyra, her thoughts went to Saw. Saw's voice was clear, unmistakably Saw's in her head, of that she was sure. Something cracked deep within her, when she remembered that very same voice lacing around the words _my child_. She couldn't save him—

She couldn't save her father either. Galen's voice seemed to ring sharper and softer at the same time, was she mixing the memories of her childhood with the ones under the rain? _Stardust, stardust_.

Thinking about them hurt. It hurt and she couldn't put it into words. She'd tried, but found the words got stuck in her throat, and her heart thumped painfully in her chest. She'd tried, many times, but couldn't really bring herself to say anything out loud. If she did— it was like letting them go—

Or maybe it had to do with not knowing how to _mourn_ them.

She'd tried. She'd shared stories about Lyra, Galen and Saw with Bodhi, and listened to Bodhi talk about his mother and his sister. His dad had died when he was too young, Jyn'd learnt, and he only had a vague recollection of him —an echo of how he guessed his voice sounded like, a blurred face he could no longer tell it was a real memory or if he'd fabricated it with his childhood wonder.

Cassian always left the common room when Bodhi and she started sharing those stories after dinner. Most of the time, he slithered away so inconspicuously that Jyn didn't realise he was gone until she turned to ask him something and saw the empty chair. Sometimes she'd catch his eye when he got to his feet, and he would avoid her gaze —a change so abrupt and different from the others quirks she had noticed of him lately, that at the start Jyn had wondered if it had to do with her… or something she'd said without realizing.

It soon became obvious, though, that it was the topics of Jyn and Bodhi's late conversations what caused Cassian to take flight. Bodhi had suggested maybe they could ask him about his family, perhaps he left because he felt it was something between the two of them and did not want to intrude. Jyn resisted the idea; they didn't know anything about his past and prying in uninvited could open old scars.

Jyn blew out a sigh; hastily tying the drawstring of her sweatpants in a bow. She slid the kyber necklace back on, grabbing the towel from the covers as soon as the crystal bounced atop her heart. She was squishing her hair when there was a knock on her door; she slid on her spare jacket on top of the worn issue rebellion cotton shirt she used for sleeping.

"Come in."

The durasteel slid open to reveal a sheepish looking Cassian.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. "How's your back?"

"Oh, uhm, my back's fine," Cassian was quick to assure her. A shadow of that small smile of his played across his face. "Thanks for— patching me up," he gestured vaguely to his back, averting her gaze all of a sudden and fixing his eyes on the floor instead. Jyn saw a crease on his cheek, and wondered if he was biting down a smile.

Cassian cleared his throat and looked up, locking eyes with her again.

"Bodhi's making some stew," he said. "He wants to know if you were saving that soypro… or if he can use it."

Jyn shrugged; "sure," she gave a little nod. "I think I saw some Negamo on the top shelf the other day, and there might be some Luilris too."

To her surprise, Cassian pulled a face.

"Luilris mushrooms? On stew?" he asked, brow still furrowed. There'd been a note of outraged disgust in his voice.

Jyn stopped squishing her hair, "yeah, what do you have against Luilris mushrooms anyway?" she asked, planting a hand on her hip.

"They're sweet," he said, face scrunched up.

Jyn wanted to laugh, but she pressed her lips together and looked at him dead in the eye, cocking a sardonic eyebrow, "I was under the impression _Bodhi_ was in charge of dinner."

Jyn had to fight down a new urge to laugh when Cassian puckered his lips to one side, his eyes slightly narrowed in an almost-glare.

"I trust you will give Bodhi my full disclosure on our cooking supplies, captain Andor," she said, teasingly.

A smile flashed across Cassian's face, "of course, sergeant Erso," any trace of his previous grimace morphed into a wry smirk, "though if the dish gets marred, I trust you'd recognize it'd be entirely on your unfeasible suggestion."

Jyn felt her lips curling and she was quick to answer, "aye, aye, captain."

Cassian nodded and wheeled around, flashing her one last hint of a small smile, before walking down the corridor and disappearing from her view. 

* * *

 

The sudden lightness fluttering in his chest at that friendly banter with Jyn evaporated as soon as he started making his way back to the galley. He couldn't stop going over his conversation with Catta, whatever the Empire was planning, it didn't look good.

Cassian noticed Catta had tried not to alarm him, but the fact she'd told him Travia wasn't available when he requested to talk with her was enough to make his blood run cold. Travia being too caught up meant the current situation in Fest couldn't be precisely stable, and definitely not favorable to the Atrivis Resistance Group.

He took a deep breath, pushing the memories of Fest aside. He'd orders; he'd a mission— recruit more rebel cells into the Alliance to strengthen the Rebellion's numbers and give the cause more momentum, a stronger chance to fight back. He couldn't exactly be dwelling on any distractions, no matter how much Fest meant to him.

"What did she say?" Bodhi asked as soon as he stepped in the galley.

"You can use the soypro… and she mentioned there's some luilris you can use as well."

The mundane joy of cooking dinner lighting up Bodhi's tired face reminded Cassian how stressing this day had been for everyone. He couldn't— he really didn't have the heart to drop the news just yet.

"Aren't those sweet?" Bodhi questioned, raising an eyebrow. His lips twitched involuntarily.

Cassian could barely choke down his laughter.

"Yeah, that's what I told her."

Bodhi shook his head and murmured perhaps it wouldn't taste so terrible. He lifted the pot lid and the scent of onions sizzling in oil filled the air. Bodhi rummaged through the small galley, raining chopped vegetables into the pot and mumbling under his breath.

Cassian'd have to tell them what they seemed to be up against eventually, but they were nearly a standard day away from their next destination. He glanced to the side and caught a glimpse of Chirrut and Baze engaged in a game of Triga. He thought of how relief had washed over Bodhi's face when he saw them all in one piece. He thought of how Baze stole glances to Jyn and him, the crease between the guardian's eyebrows and the softness of his gaze as he refrained from speaking.

And he thought of Jyn, of how worry still clang to her face, of how she'd tensed when he mentioned the raid and the execution—

Cassian shook his head and figured it would be best to keep the information to himself for the time being. He could always tell them after they'd all slept the fears of that day off.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terrible with updating, evidently, it takes me ages n.nUu Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you've enjoyed the chapter.


	6. Fear On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past, and the uncertainty of the future, catches up with Jyn and Cassian as they navigate their developing feelings for each other.

Jyn tossed and turned restlessly in bed, unable to fall asleep. She stared at the ceiling, dimly lit by the soft light-blue light. Memories kept flooding back as soon as she closed her eyes, her throat would tighten and no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut the images would not fade. So she lay there, on the cold cotton sheets, staring at the ceiling, guessing the intricate path of lines and dents decorating the durasteel above her head, slightly illuminated by the pale blue light on the opposite wall.

She should have seen it coming. After all, what Cassian had told her was bound to haunt her, whether or not she tried to drive those thoughts away. They kept creeping in, like the shiver going up her spine at the phantom feeling of Eadu cold rain.

Jyn writhed around, blowing a sigh. She grabbed and squeezed her pillow, though she doubted having it fluffed up would be any better. Lying on her side, she sank her face into the worn cotton, the pads of her fingers scraping the sheet. A brief glance to the blue light before the heaviness of sleep made her eyes flutter shut again.

She took a deep breath, tried to concentrate on the air going into her lungs, attempted to let her mind go blank. Then fonder, happier memories sneaked in as her mind drifted into slumber. Lush greenery, the slosh of water, the crackle of gravel, the warmth of a hug, the feeling of felt against her cheek, the smell of  breakfast—

Lah'Mu.

She reached out into those emotions, trying to grip those precious moments resurfacing from the depths of her mind, plunge into those flickering embers of bliss. Papa hunched over the desk, engrossed in his data-pad, mama at the stove with an amused twitch to her lips as she stirred the stew. How papa would flinch and look up, turning, data-pad forgotten as soon as he heard Jyn hurrying to the kitchen. How his weathered face would light up as a _"good morning, Stardust"_ rolled out his mouth, the moment she stepped into the room. How mama would swing around, leaving the stew unattended, quick to reciprocate the good-morning hug.

_I have so much to tell you._

Her eyes stung at the memory. She sniffed, almost burying her face in the pillow, feeling her eyes well-up with tears. Perhaps what happened that day was to blame, for when she closed her eyes she couldn't help to see her father's body in the rain, mama's limp body on the grass, Saw's sinking figure in the distance—

She'd lost them. And she'd nearly lost Cassian too.

She gripped at the kyber crystal before her brain had even registered moving her hand. She held it, tighter, the prism almost digging into her skin.

 _Trust the Force_ , mama had said.

Did the Force want mama, Saw and papa gone but not Cassian? Had it been the Force will, or there had been something she could have done to prevent those loses? What if she had convinced mama to stay with her, what if she and Cassian had dragged Saw with them? What if she had been faster when climbing that ladder—

She blinked, and silent tears meandered down her cheek into the worn cotton of her pillow. They might have found them both, captured them along with papa. They might have never made it to the ship, perishing along with the Holy City. It might have made no difference whatsoever—

She cleared her throat to keep the sudden sob at bay. With a soft sigh, she got up, rubbing her eye. She swung her legs off the bed, treading carefully on the durasteel. If she couldn't fall asleep, perhaps a warm beverage would soothe her mind into it.  The door to her quarters slid open with a faint swoosh.

She inhaled and bit her lip, trying her best to pay no heed to coldness of the durasteel sipping through the thin layer of her socks. Maybe she should have felt less apprehensive about potentially waking up anyone and grabbed her boots to make her night journey to the galley.

She caught sight of the cacophony of blue and purple hues outside the small transparinsteel window. The humming of hyperspace was supposed to be calming, but Jyn found it to be of little help. It had been a long time since she'd slept through the night —years, actually. And a warm dinner and a few months of company were not going to do away with the impending-danger dread drilled into her mind that jolted her awake.

Mama had always given her a steaming cup of bluemilk when she had trouble sleeping. The warmth of the sweet, heavy beverage kept the nightmares from disrupting the peace of her slumber. It had never failed, not even once. By the time she'd doze off, the cup had always been halfway full.

She felt the kyber crystal, almost out of instinct. Mama's gentle smile flickered through her mind. She allowed the moment curl the corners of her mouth slightly. There had been a time in which she refused to let her mind dwell on the past, overwhelmed by the memories that tore her open. Yet, she could —should— let those bits and pieces of her history come back to her. After all, the pain of all her loses would never dwindle… like a severed limb, the phantom pain and stifling hollowness in her chest would remain, there was no way around that.

But she could, at least, find some sort of solace, of comfort, on those moments. Their warmth, their happiness, their _love_ — it was something nobody could ever take from her. It might as well be the only thing the Empire could never rob her off, not as long as she didn't forget. But, most importantly, not as long as she allowed herself to _remember_.

She swallowed down the whispered curse at the patch of dim light amidst the dark hallway. It was coming from the galley. She halted, twiddling her fingers. Faint clanking, shuffling of heavy steps. Baze, perhaps?

She took a step forward then went still again. What if it _wasn't_ Baze?

She knew all her crewmates had trouble sleeping, that was not surprising in the slightest, even if they seldom actually recognized it. She had talked about it, with Bodhi of course, they had got much closer after Scarif. She'd found some comfort into sharing stories with him, in fact, it had been thanks to Bodhi that she'd begun to pick up the bright in the dark of her past. His company was soothing, calming, comforting, in a way that—

Cassian wasn't. It was different, similar, but different nonetheless.

Uneasiness pulsed in her ears. What if it was Cassian the one in the galley?

She took a deep breath. She didn't have that many options, it was either going back to her quarters at the risk of not sleeping a wink, or going into the galley at the chance of bumping into Cassian—

Not that finding Cassian in the galley was the issue. Not at all. The prospect did not make her anxious because of that, precisely, but rather because she had no clue what exactly she'd be stepping into if that were the case. She'd seen Cassian haunted by nightmares, and a handful of times it'd been her who had calmed him down aboard the medical freighter after Operation Fracture. She'd dealt with Cassian being— hurt, for the lack of a more eloquent term, but she'd not dealt with an awkward _can't-sleep-either_ situation after their recovery, after whatever _this_ that was happening between them was.

It'd been easy back then— awakened from a nightmare, from the pain, from the meds wearing off too soon. They'd talked about this and that, not really about everything and neither about nothing. They had not opened-up to each other, at least not in the sense Jyn understood it. She could say she'd opened up with Bodhi, and he'd in turn to her. But she couldn't really say the same about Cassian.

They were _closer_ , closer than before Jedha and closer than on Scarif —Jyn guessed surviving death together had that sort of effect on people. They had mended fences, in their own particular way. And, around Cassian, Jyn often did not need any words, he just knew. It was a strange feeling, to have such tacit empathy with someone else, relieving in many situations but bothersome in others. There had been many times in which Jyn had genuinely wanted to know what Cassian was thinking, feeling, what was troubling him—

Yet, if she'd a talent for building a shell around herself, then Cassian excelled at it.

There was a clank. A muffled curse.

_Carajo._

As she'd suspected, it was definitely Cassian.

She was still more than a meter away from the threshold. By the looks of it, Cassian hadn't taken notice of her presence. She could still turn around and go back to her room—

She took a step forward instead. And another and another. By the time her palm met the cold durasteel of the door frame, Cassian was mumbling a more eloquent curse under his breath. He stunned for a flickering second, eyes rounded and mouth agape.

The sloshing of water the only thing breaking the sudden silence.

"Hi," said Jyn, eager to break the stunned-induced tense atmosphere.

Jyn hadn't believed it possible for someone to stutter over a two-syllable word, but Cassian did. Twice. Jyn couldn't do much other than fiddle with the cuff of her shirt, so Cassian settled for lowering his gaze to the mess on the floor.

"Caf?" she asked, incredulity furrowing her brow.

Cassian merely shrugged.

She pulled a washcloth from the cabinet and handed it over. Cassian crouched down and, while he wiped the floor dry, Jyn stepped on her toes and got a jug from the shelf. She was about to lean down when an idea flickered across her mind. She leant forward again and hooked another jug.

The silence was still somewhat awkward, but it had shifted. There was a calming, shooting even, note to it. Jyn overheard the splashing of water running. She tapped her fingers on the steel jug, watching Cassian wringing the washcloth. As he shook the water off his hands, she inhaled to nudge herself into action. She offered the dishcloth the moment he turned.

"So, caf?" she asked again.

A small smile dangled on the corner of his lips.

"Yeah," he said, simply, taking a few step backwards to give her some room.

Jyn opened the faucet and as the water sloshed into the jug, she found herself questioning him again, "wouldn't tea be better? I mean," she paused, clearing her throat to avoid any potential awkward silence,"to get some sleep."

Cassian scratched the back of his neck, "I was, uhm, trying to stay awake, actually."

Jyn couldn't help the astonishment that quirked up her eyebrows.

"I did get some sleep," he was quick to add, almost shrugging, scratching his neck again and averting his gaze.

It took all Jyn's willpower not to twist her lips and shoot him a knowing look. She had her doubts that their definitions of getting some sleep actually coincided, knowing Cassian, he probably considered a meagre three hours more than enough. She bit her tongue, to keep the worry caged and her curiosity contained, though she wanted to ask what exactly was so important he couldn't allow himself to sleep more than a handful of hours.

Perhaps she should make a comment in passing about Cassian getting little sleep to Kaytu later. Maybe the droid reminding him all the side-effects of sleep deprivation would get him to reconsider.

She was going to make him tea all the same, pour it into the thermos flask and leave it behind. Hopefully he'd get the hint. She rubbed her eye and held back a yawn, humming instead. She was struggling to light the stove when in came Cassian's voice.

"Here, let me."

He gently pushed her aside, giving a little sheepish smile after setting all the jugs on the stove. Jyn clamped her lips together, but the tug at her lips was evident regardless. Heaviness pulled at her eyelids and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, when she opened them again, she found Cassian going over a data-pad. Perhaps it was her drowsiness, but she could have sworn his gaze was clouding.

"Everything alright?" she realized she'd not just thought that when Cassian tore his gaze away from the screen with a jerking movement, almost startling.

He let out a heavy sigh, tapping his fingers on the duraplast.

"I am not," he paused, sighed again, "really sure," his voice weary with exhaustion.

The smell of heated caf sank to her lungs. Jyn felt her chest tightening. She curled her fingers into her palms and chewed her lip, her breath quickening all of a sudden. She wanted to bridge the small distance keeping them apart and rub his arm, but it was as if her feet were nailed to the durasteel.

Swirls of steam curled upwards from the jugs. Silence settled between them again, shifted again to an oppressive throat-tightening heaviness. Jyn forgot about the caf, the tea, the blue milk, the drowsiness, the lack of sleep.

 "Are you okay?" her voice came out in a timid, almost alarmed, whisper.

Cassian looked up and Jyn saw all the worry darkening his gaze.

"I was just— going over some files."

But right afterwards, he bit his lip and let out another deep sigh. Jyn was suddenly afraid, very afraid, that what happened on Dibrook's moon had caught up to him. Apprehension clogged her throat at the thought, fearful that there was more to the little he'd told her. Or— was it something else?

"Yeah," he said, and the statement may have dispelled her worries weren't for the fact his shoulders trembled lightly, a shaky breath leaving his mouth immediately afterwards.

Jyn barely registered the bubbling of the water boiling, the acrid smell of almost-burnt caf. The emotions tearing at her might have been transparent on her face, for Cassian's expression turned from worn-down to worried. It was him who approached, him who reached for her arm, almost hesitating when he squeezed.

"It's just—" he said, voice almost sinking into a whisper, "it's— I—" he hesitated, and Jyn clasped his arm tightly. His gaze dropped to her fingers, the exhale made his body tremble. "I spoke with—" he trailed off again. "I contacted Fest."

 _Fest_. His homeworld.

"The Empire is… planning something and I—" a short, excruciating pause, "I don't know what it is—"

If she'd stopped even a second to think it through, she'd probably never mustered up the courage to do it. So she didn't, because all she could take in was his pained gazed, the worry weighing heavy on him. She pulled him into a tight hug, holding back the urge to bury her face in his chest, and started rubbing his back. He went still, tense for a moment under her grasp, then the tension slowly melted away as she brushed circles around his spine. His exhale breezed across her cheek, warm, her fingers halted for a second the moment he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Her heart leaped at his fingers burrowing on her shoulder, at the light nuzzle under her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she kept stroking his back, slower and slower until her hand came to a halt, by some coincidence, right on top of the scar Scarif had left on him.

Her throat tightened and Jyn just pulled him closer.

She could hear his heartbeat growing steadier. Jyn couldn't help thinking it was a shooting sound, which together with the rustle of his slowly-evening breathing, made her body tingle with warmth. Her mind harked back to the hug on the beach, to the way they had clung to each other and to the life they thought they'd never get to live. She remembered the hug on the galley, the one he'd given her not long ago, the way she'd hanged onto him as sobs shook her, and how she'd clung to the comfort of his arms wrapped around her— just like he was clinging to her now.

She tried to ignore, to no avail, the flutter in her stomach that came unannounced at the realization. The sensation curled her lips and made her arms squeeze further. His breathing matched his, chests swaying in sync. 

Seconds dragged onto minutes and Cassian didn't seem to want to pull back. Neither did she. Jyn guessed they could have stayed like that for minutes on end, but an unexpected sizzling pulled them out of their trance. The caf was boiling and spilling on the stove.

They untangled from the hug with haste and Cassian turned off every stovetop. He glanced at the mess and chuckled.

"Guess tea will do, then."

 

"Thanks," said Jyn, when Cassian handed over the steaming cup of milk.

He offered a wan smile and glanced down to his tea, taking a rather generous sip, while reaching out for his data-pad. Jyn followed him with her gaze, trying to make out any hints of discomfort, but he'd gone back to his usual undecipherable self. Though, Jyn noted, the tension on his shoulders had eased a good bit.

Neither of them brought up what'd just happened. They merely gazed off and on at each other, rather awkward, sheepish expressions taking hold of their faces, as they cleaned the mess on the stove and got the drinks ready. Jyn would never admit it out loud, of course, but she'd felt heat rising up her neck when their gazes met for a fleeting second, reminiscing the warmth of his chest on her cheek.

Relieved, she took a deep breath, the smell of warm milk came heavy on her tongue. It was different from the one she remembered —maybe it'd something to do with it being from powdered blue milk. She stared at the light-blue foam on the surface for a moment, before taking a tentative small sip. It was warm enough for it to be soothing, yet not hot enough to be uncomfortable.

Cassian's gaze was glued once again to his data-pad. He even took a seat at the small table and started tapping his fingers on the duraplast edge. She figured it'd be better to leave him to his own devices and get back to bed, especially considering _this_ was precisely the reason she'd got up after all, see if some hot blue milk could trick her mind into falling asleep again. She doubted he'd notice her leaving. Yet, she did not move from her current spot, starting to take small sips every now and again, while she kept a cautious watchful gaze over him.

He must have noticed her _subtle_ staring, for he harrumphed and glanced up from the screen, "is everything alright?" he echoed her.

Jyn's breath caught in her throat. She'd pretty much liked to ask how _he_ was doing, given what had happened recently, but she swallowed the question together with the next sip of milk. She almost shrugged.

"Yes— I just… couldn't—" she hesitated and mentally cursed herself from getting all her words tangled up. "I was having trouble falling asleep so…" she trailed off, giving the mug a little lift.

The vacant expression on his face brightened with the slight curl of his lips. He nodded, Jyn found herself smiling, Cassian grinned back amiably, holding her gaze for a moment before glancing back down. Jyn tapped her mug and figured it'd be best to just return to bed, she ought to get some sleep, even if they had more than a standard day ahead of them until their next destination. Besides, Cassian was busy; she didn't really want to disturb him.

Yet, concern kept nagging at her, nailing her feet to the floor.

 _Good night, Cassian_ , the words burnt her tongue, but she could not bring herself to utter a sound. She saw him frowning at the screen, the sombreness coming back to cloud his gaze, something give way inside her chest. _Good night, Cassian_ , she repeated in her mind, ready to let the words out.

"Shouldn't you get some sleep?"

She— hadn't meant to say _that_ , clearly. Cassian jerked up and stared at her, eyebrows in a soft arch, lips barely parted. His expression wasn't cold; it wasn't even remotely close to a glare. It was rather warmth, even endearing in the astonishment evident on his slightly rounded eyes and the creases on his forehead. He blinked, head tilting to the side.

Jyn lowered her gaze to the steaming milk and fiddled with the cup. She sucked in a breath before blurting out a rather shaky, "I mean, after everything— I think you need some rest," her voice striking a soft tone.

They locked eyes, he looked down almost instantly, as if the mere eye contact hurt. His shoulders heaved as he breathed; he pinched the bridge of his nose and set the data-pad aside. Jyn didn't know what to make of it, and whether or not she should consider it a little victory.

"I'd rather keep my mind busy," he said, voice almost a hushed whisper, as if he were talking more to himself than answering. "See if I can… figure this out," he waved his hand over the data-pad, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

Jyn sat opposite him, he heaved a sigh when their gazes met again. She would have liked to lean forward and grab his hand, give it a squeeze, or bring herself to say something that could pluck him out of the sombreness he was slowly sinking into, but all she could do was hear her own apprehension beating rapidly in her ears.

She took another sip of her blue milk, but it didn't do anything to ease the lump tightening her throat or settle the lurch in her stomach. Cassian shook his head lightly, and swiped his finger on the screen. His eyes, scanning from left to right, shone with the pale blue hue of the screen, the very same one which was casting shadows on his features, exacerbating his careworn face.

"Maybe I can help," she said, tentatively, cupping the mug in her hands.

Cassian looked up, a curious twinkle to his eyes.

"So, you know—" she tried, after clearing her throat. She gestured to the datapad with a swift flourish of twiddling fingers, "you finish faster," she clamped her lips and tapped the mug before adding, "and we can go to bed—I mean, go to sleep," she quickly rephrased, clearing her throat again.

Maybe she'd imagined it, but for a flickering second she'd thought she saw an amused smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

"You need some rest, Cassian," she repeated, letting her voice strike a concerned tone this time.

Any remain of amusement vanished from his face, but he did give a little nod. She guessed silent concurrence was better than nothing.

"Don't make me bring Kaytu into this," she warned, teasingly. "Unless you want him listing all the consequences of sleep-deprivation."

This time, he did chuckle. A soft, brief, dry sound that could very well have been a heave, but a laugh nonetheless.

"I suppose you have a point," he agreed, taking a swig of his tea.

Jyn beamed and swung her cup.

"So— what do you do know, exactly?"

Cassian turned the data-pad towards her and started going over the little information he had. Jyn listened and nodded from time to time, tilting to her mouth the mug cupped between her hands every now and again. The warmth of the drink was flowing slowly to her very toes, yet the softness that came unannounced on Cassian's small bit-down smile was warmer in her chest.

She'd recognized the look on Cassian's face, from long ago. She knew that phantom of the emotions that haunted him, because it'd been the very same she'd felt after mama died, after losing papa, after knowing Saw wouldn't come back for her— uncertainty.

Throat-clogging, chest-tightening, asphyxiating uncertainty that numbed both body and mind. And the pulsing, searing thump of survival and the flickering, wavering ember of hope had helped her stay afloat. Yet, she'd witnessed him on the verge of falling apart. She knew that too, the freezing dread that dimmed the light curling inside one's chest, making the dark desperation close in, and in and in.

"Are there any reports on the sector?" she asked.

Cassian shook his head, and let out a brief sigh, tapping his thumb on his cup handle.

"Nothing certain," he said, voice droning to almost a whisper. "Rumours, more than anything. Nothing that's been proven beyond doubt," he slanted his cup.

His expression clouded again and she waited, taking another small sip, more to keep her hands busy than to drink because she wanted to. That way, she could keep herself from reaching out for his hand. Giving him space might help him to open up, at least it did for Jyn, after so many weeks of being together she'd the impression Cassian and her were pretty similar in that regard.

Cassian ducked his head, gaze fixed on the data-pad again. Lines creased his forehead as his eyes swept from left to right, left to right, going over everything again. He took a sharp intake of breath, it was as if he was trying to find something —anything— he'd overlooked, as if he was trying to decipher the mystery from the meagre pieces of information he had.

"What about contacts?" Jyn asked, seeing the pressure hunching his shoulders back down. "Any chance any rebel cell might know something or—" she cleared her throat when Cassian looked up to stare at her quizzically, "know someone that might?"

"They'd have informed if they—" Cassian began, but Jyn shook her head and he stopped short, eyebrows squishing together.

"I mean, rebel cells that aren't part of the Alliance."

It could have been Jyn's drowsy eyes, or the light playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn Cassian's face lit up all of a sudden with the flickering shadow of a smile.

"Perhaps we can get some information from one of the cells we are to negotiate with," he said, his voice had a slight alien hollow edge, like that of a choked-back laugh. "I hadn't thought of that—" he trailed off and there was a slight curl to the corners of his lips that hadn't been there seconds ago.

He hid the joy on his face, though, drinking his tea.

"Thanks," he said. His voice was soft, the smile may not be curving his lips but it was surely touching his eyes. His gaze was warm, thankful, when their eyes met.

Jyn beamed, tilting her head, almost shrugged before taking the remaining milk. "It was nothing, Cassian," there was a light twitch to his lips and she didn't wait for him to rebuke she was wrong.

She was more than perfectly okay without her stomach doing that little flip, and wanted to keep it that way, "I'm sure you'd have thought of it, eventually, had you slept beforehand."

Still, given the way Cassian's expression changed to a strange mixture between amused and slightly irritated, she couldn't be sure she hadn't, in fact, wiggled her eyebrows at him over the rim of her cup. Yet, he didn't huff nor rolled his eyes, he merely shook his head.

"Yeah, possibly," he whispered.

 _And hadn't you just gone through a pretty shaken, traumatic experience, no matter how hard you want to pretend it hasn't affected you,_ but she kept that to herself.

"Even if— thanks, Jyn," this time he did not shy away his gaze. His lips eased into a broad gentle smile.

She guessed he wasn't only thanking her for the suggestion. She could only nod, lowering her gaze when she realized she was clamping her lips, slowly sliding off her seat and up.

"I am sorry I kept you up," Cassian said quickly afterwards, prompting her to look up. He pointed at her mug with a slight wiggle of his finger, "I guess you were—" he chewed his lip, trailing off for less than a second, "I take the milk was to go back to sleep."

Jyn nodded, then shrugged. She'd hate him to think she'd an issue with him keeping her up, she was glad she could be of help. Probably it was something she was meant to say out loud, but the words stuck, stubborn, on her throat. Still, if the fact his expression had not clouded one bit was any indication, there was no need for her to do so. Maybe he suspected, maybe something in her demeanour gave away that same message.

"I guess it's a good thing we've so many hours ahead of us," she said instead.

"Good night, Jyn," he said, when she was about to turn on her heels.

"Good night, Cassian."

She was on the point of walking over the threshold when she turned around.

"If it doesn't work— the milk, I mean… don't we have pills or something?"

Cassian held her gaze in silence. Jyn kept her expression curious, slightly worried, while praying for him not to see right through her.

"If I am not mistaken, they're on the second med-kit," he said, a thoughtful frown taking hold of his face as he spoke. "I think Kay kept a—" he cleared his throat, "a detail of doses, for each of us," his voice almost sank to a whisper on that last part. "You know, bearing in mind weight and all—"

"How thoughtful of Kay," she managed.

"Yeah, you know how he is."

She nodded, waved him goodbye and made her way back to her room.

As the durasteel clanked beneath her every step, Jyn wondered if the droid had run calculations on who of them was the most likely to resort to those pills, not that Jyn would ever ask him. It seemed something Kaytu might as well do for their sakes, even if all of them had been reluctant from day one to take those meds.

Jyn was curious whether Kay had told Cassian the most sensible course of action was to take those pills, she'd seen them from afar talking before going to bed a few hours ago. Given how Cassian's face had sunk and wrinkled, Jyn doubted he'd been willing to listen to his non-organic friend. In her humble opinion, he ought to take them, at least this once— while he had told her what happened during the mission, she knew it wasn't the whole truth. He'd opened up about what had happened, even how he'd felt about the whole situation, but not how he'd felt during it… or how it was affecting him now.

A raid. An execution. Those weren't things that could be effortlessly brushed aside afterwards. Neither could the emotions to them attached were easy to ignore.

The door wooshed open and then close. She crawled under the covers and pulled her legs up to her chest for extra warmth, the creamy-coloured fleece itched on her chin and she let out a quiet, yet long, sigh. The image of Cassian's haggard face flickered through her mind— next thing her fist hit her pillow, to fluff it up, she told herself, biting the rim of her tongue. She drew in a breath, rolling on the bed, and frowned at the ceiling before turning again and burying her face into the worn cotton.

_"I'd rather keep my mind busy."_

She just hoped Cassian knew he could show weakness, be vulnerable. Burdening himself with the task of saving the galaxy did not meant he'd to shut himself off. Stoicism was nothing more than a façade for protection; Jyn knew that better than anyone. At times, it fell apart. Sometimes, one needed a shoulder to lean on.

Cassian was apparently just starting to take in that notion, what had happened earlier wouldn't have been possible otherwise, or so Jyn'd rather think.

She tried not to dwell too much on how nice, comforting, it'd felt to be clasped against his chest. No matter how hard she tried to, though, the hug and the way they'd both sunk into it was the last thought on her mind before the sweet dark oblivion closed in.

* * *

Cassian rubbed his face, holding back the frustrated grunt that crept up his throat. After having stared at the ceiling of his quarters for almost half an hour, he'd decided he might as well do something productive if sleeping was out of the question.

Kay had suggested that he take the medication, argued what he'd went through had a ninety five per cent chance of having an impact on his psyche, which in most likelihood would result in nightmares and difficulty to fall asleep. Cassian had straight out denied it, assuring Kay that he was fine, _perfectly fine_. The droid's photo-receptors had dimmed lightly, as if he were squinting his eyes, for a moment Cassian had thought he might brought up Jenoport or Kafrene, but his friend merely had scolded in a frustrated whir _"this is an impractical course of action"_. He'd made a point of stressing the adjective with a buzz and emphasizing his point with a head bow.

Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose as the data-pad screen brightened up. His eyes fluttered shut involuntarily when the yawn tugged at his lips, he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles again in an effort to brush the heaviness away. The corners of his eyelids started to hurt and he stopped, fixing on taking a long deep breath against his palms instead. He rolled his shoulders at the chill in the galley, a spam of pain flared up his back at the slight movement, he swallowed the curse and gritted his teeth, trying to even his sudden quickening breathing.

He closed his eyes, tried to focus on the air going in and out, his hand keeping a tight grip on the table edge. He concentrated on the rustle of his breathing, ignoring the new stab of pain on his jaw, but he miscalculated. He shouldn't have closed his eyes, nor attempted to bring his mind to a brief still rest. The memories he'd been trying so hard to blot out sparkled, from dim to haunting, behind the darkness of his eyelids.

The phantom feeling of getting dragged over hard soil, tears rolling down a young zabrak's face… but then the zabrak's face morphed into a human one, the feeling of pebbles scratching on his chest turned into the burning touch of ice—

It was a female, _human_ , face the one he stared at in the depths of his memories. Tears glistened in her eyes, her waterfall of dark curls danced in the wind as arms in white duraplast dragged her away. Her gaze locked with someone's — _his_ — and Cassian could see all the love and fierce determination in those glimmering brown eyes with flecks of gold.

_No, no, no, no—_

He couldn't breathe; afraid she will disappear if he dared to move a muscle. But she started to fade as the darkness closed in. The two syllable word burnt his throat, tearing it raw.

His breath caught as his heart pounded, Cassian felt himself suffocating. He gasped for air, snapping his eyes open. A slight tremor ran up his arms, he was only capable of drawing small breaths, as if his very lungs had shrivelled.

Deep sobs racked his insides, Cassian could only clench his jaw in hopes to kill them in his throat.

_In and out. In and out. In and out._

His fingers hurt more and more, the durasteel almost sinking into his skin, nigh on cracking his bones.

A fogged up window. A dancing flurry of snow in the wind outside. A sing-song soft voice calling his name. The whispering crackle of the fire. Flashing warm golden light on stone and wooden floors. The itch of fur on skin. The rich scent of spiced stew. The stinging on his tongue. The heat sinking, comforting, to his very toes.

His breathing began to settle down to a more even beat.

In

_Respira…_

In and

_Respira hondo…_

In and out

                 _Respira hondo. Ya, ya, tranquilo._ _Ya pasó, mi amor._

His mother's voice humming, as soothing as he remembered it, echoed in his mind. If he closed his eyes, maybe he would see the hearth glowing red, the window sill packed with snow, the colourful blanket. If he concentrated hard enough, he might even feel the phantom touch of his mother's loose braid brushing the tip of his nose as she held him, gently rocking back and forth as the song crooned in her throat.

It was a foolish, _childish_ and unnecessary thought to ponder on, but he couldn't help the yearn blossoming in his chest, sprouting together with painful thorns. The rubbing of her hand up and down his back, her whispering that everything would be alright— things he wished he could feel, hear again, if only one _last time_ —

With a grunt and more enthusiastic rubbing at his eyes, he forced himself to get off his seat. He glanced around the galley, eyes fixing for a flickering second on the duraplast mugs —just like the very same ones Jyn and he had used after that failed negotiation, when they tried to tempt some semblance of warmth back into their bodies with Kopi tea. His fingers twitched involuntarily, as if his memory –him– was trying to grasp at something elusive.

He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand this time, in a vain effort to keep exhaustion —or drowsy-induced weird trains of thoughts— off his mind. He needed to stay awake, he needed to figure out what was happening in Atrivis… and the only way in which both courses of action would intersect was drinking caf.

He was deliberate, maybe a little too much, with the amount of powdered caf in the lukewarm water. He added more water to the jug, making an estimated guess to dilute the caffeine-beverage. He clicked the stove on and set the jug down. It clanked, given the entire ship was wrapped in silence, he hoped it'd been low enough so as not to disturb anyone— the galley was far from the quarters anyway, but everyone was having enough trouble sleeping as it was.

He tapped the data-pad screen, frowning, as if doing so would re-arrange the lines and lines of words into the answer he was looking for.

He knew the Empire was stripping Fest bare, just like they were doing with countless other Outer Rim worlds. He also was aware the resources Imperials got from planets like those of the Atrivis sector were vital to keep their war machine up and running: without resources they couldn't make weapons. To get those, they needed workers… and what easier way to get that indispensable labour force than over-working the planet's population? And if that did not work, if they did not bend, then they could always even enslave them to meet their objective. Submission was an easy end to achieve when one was the one holding the gun, and the defenceless were at its end.

Standard Imperial procedure. 

Yet, that didn’t explain the amount of forces being mobilized to the sector. At least, not in those numbers. Cassian doubted the scattered resistance groups had managed to gather enough sway to call for such a measure from Imperial officials, the Alliance would have heard word of it long ago if they had—

Scarif wasn't yet too far behind. Recruitment had increased, after Jedha, Scarif and Alderaan… Yet, not enough time for the independent resistance groups to become so strong to pose a real, tangible threat to Imperial rule. Cassian feared something more sinister was behind that increase on troops and firepower.

Travia Chan was too busy for him to ask for a holo-meeting.

And that was precisely what made Cassian more anxious about the whole situation.

He hissed a sigh through clenched teeth and trudged to the counter. A thin, light swirl of steam curled from within the jug, a few minutes and it'd probably be warm enough to store it into the thermos flask and keep it warm for a few hours —he didn't really know how long it would take him to find a connection.

He was mentally cataloguing which planets reports to go through first, when he accidentally brushed the side of his hand against the heated metal when reaching for a mug. The unconscious impulse made him knock off the jug from the stove.

"¡Carajo!"

Mumbling a more colourful curse, he turned the faucet open and let cold water run on the injured spot, easing a heaved whine of relief when the sting subdued. Biting his lip, staring at the reddened and sore tissue, he figured it'd be safer if he put some bacta on it, just to prevent any infection.

He turned to go fetch the med-kit, but froze all of a sudden.

_Jyn was standing in the doorway._

And he just stood there, still, staring right back at her.

"Hi."

Cassian meant to reply with an off-handed hello, but he managed to stutter over the short word. He felt heat rising up his neck, as he mentally slapped himself, trying to regain some semblance of composure. His hand itched, a mess of spilled caf laid at his feet—

Which Jyn pointed out, very eloquently. Something about taking care of the spilled caf plucked him out of his daze; he took the washcloth from Jyn and brushed it over the liquid. As the creamy fabric got darker spots, Cassian tried not to think too much on any potential interrogation from Jyn. Not that she would put him on a tight spot on purpose, but Cassian had his doubts about his current ability to mask all emotion.

He hadn't wanted to admit it, not even to Kay, but what had transpired on the moon that day had got to him. In ways he couldn't being to fully explain. It had pulled at his heartstrings, bled open old scars and resurfaced old, painful memories he'd tried to keep stashed away in his mind. Yet, it had all come rushing back to haunt him, a glooming shadow trying to swallow him whole—

And the worst part of all of it was… he knew he'd pushed Jyn in the same direction too. He knew he was responsible of causing her the same dreading pain that threatened with suffocating him now, for he'd reminded her of—

He bit his lip, in a vain effort to keep his mind away from going deeper into that train of thought. Yet, the flickering realization made guilt sear, painful, through his chest. He took his data-pad, trying to bury such ideas beneath worries for his homeworld— which, in practice, actually did nothing to ease his anxiety.

"Are you okay?"

Jyn had to ask, of course. It was stupid of him to suppose she wouldn't worry, especially after what had happened, particularly considering how… _thoughtful,_ they'd became of one another as of late. He couldn't bring himself to come up with a good enough half-truth to calm her unease, he was vague and yet—

Yet the worry got to _him_ , like a sharp blow that struck all air out of his lungs. He couldn't even suck in a breath to calm his roaring heartbeat, swallow to unknot his throat. And suddenly Jyn's arms were wrapped around him, clasping him to her chest, tightly. It was as if his brain and his body couldn't put two and two together, he went still, tenser even, when every fibre of his being was screaming to return the hug, to sink into the comforting warmth of her.

Jyn started rubbing circles on his back and he felt the tension ebb away under the soft knead of her fingertips. He let out the weary sigh that had been choking him, burying his face in the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder.

His fingers pressed down, almost out of instinct, as if the feel of her was the only thing tethering his wracked nerves from shattering apart. She shifted, ever so slightly, kept stroking his back, each rubbed circle taking longer than the previous one until her fingertips came to rest by his spine—

Right atop the scar.

Not even a second afterwards, she pulled him closer.

He inhaled, taking in the calmness of the hug slowing down his heartbeat. He wallowed in that fleeting mellow solace snugging around him, like the silver lining of a cloud amidst the darkness.

He tried not to think, at least not for now, in the resemblance that silver lining had to lightning. Thunder was the prelude of lightning, lightning of thunderbolt. Whether or not the thunderbolt would come, and whether or not the thunderbolt would get to him, hurt him—

A myriad of questions, of what ifs, ran cracks on the shell of impassiveness and distance he'd built around himself.

Was it wise to let the shell crack? Should he mend it while he could, before it was too late? Most importantly, did he want to do so? Did he want to stow everything away like he'd for years or did he want to let the walls crumble down?

Perhaps, the most important question of it all was another one: was he brave enough to truly be vulnerable again? At least—

At least with Jyn?

The caf burning saved him from even contemplating an answer to that question. It nagged at the back of his mind, though, as he sipped his tea, as Jyn tiptoed around him trying to help him. Its tug was certainly sharper when she managed to make him laugh, when later that small suggestion and slight tease dragged off some of the burden atop his shoulders.

Words were not capable of conveying what he truly meant, but he said them anyways, a flutter sprouting deep within his chest at her wan smile. The rational part of his brain kept whispering the obvious cause of that flutter, but Cassian pretended he couldn't understand the emotions slowly coursing through him, as if he was incapable of putting a name to those blooming feelings.

He couldn't— he wouldn't bring himself to do so. Not until he was sure that— not until he knew for certain Jyn felt the same way, not until he knew that wouldn't open new wounds. It had little to do, in fact, with whether or not his feelings were reciprocated or not, and more to do with the wish of no further harm coming to her.

She had already lost too much. He had already lost too much. They had both already hurt too much, too deep, too greatly. Cassian didn't want to cause any further pain, didn't want to be responsible for another loss, another heartache, more helplessness—

Not when there was still a war to fight, not when there was a cause to defend— not when he ran the risk of maiming her chances at a better future, a _better shot at_ … whatever this was. He was afraid he'd force her, neither consciously nor knowingly, to make choices she couldn't or didn't want to make.

The Empire and this war had already stolen too much from her. He was not going to play accomplice to the same, no matter if, deep down, it tore him apart to brush her glimmering light away from him.

* * *

 "Jyn, are you okay?"

She faked a cough to mask the yawn. And there she was, thinking the mauve stains under her eyes were not that evident under the ship's yellowish halo-light. She nodded, shrugged, and reached forward to grab the steaming cup of caf Bodhi had hovering between them.

"Yeah, still a bit sleepy," she answered, clearing her throat and tucking hair strands behind her ear. She shot Bodhi a small flickering smile over the duraplast rim before taking a generous sip.

Given the way Bodhi's expression twisted into a frown, Jyn wasn't entirely sure he'd believed the explanation. He kept her gaze on her, almost a thoughtful stare, as if studying her silently. The corners of his mouth turned appreciatively, his brow creased, his misgiving evident on his face. He took a sip of his drink to then clear his throat, rather audibly. The fact he quirked an eyebrow when he spoke next, instead of being on the verge of shying away his gaze on the last second as he always did, made nervous laughter bubble in Jyn's chest.

"Trouble sleeping?"

She shrugged again, took another sip, before answering in a casual, "you could say that."

By the way he fixed his eyes on her while slanting his cup, it was obvious he was politely wordlessly asking for her to elaborate. Jyn tapped the table, clamped her lips and settled for swaying her cup in a circular motion lightly, focused on the swinging liquid inside.

"Couldn't fall asleep at first," she said. "It took me a while—"

Bodhi worked his lips, lowering his gaze to his remaining caf. A flickering silence settled between them for a moment, Bodhi scratched his neck and looked at her again, a knowing, sad smile touching the edges of his mouth.

"Have you asked Kaytu—" he trailed off all of a sudden.

He lowered his gaze back at his cup, as if recognising out loud he'd been taking the sleeping pills were signalling some sort of weakness on his part.

"You know, if you ever—" he paused again, letting out a weary sigh through lightly-parted lips, "need to. They help."

Jyn wanted to say something for Bodhi not to believe she thought it bad to take meds. Or that knowing he did would somehow affect her opinion of him negatively, but she didn't know what to say exactly. She ended up getting up to pour herself another cup of caf and, on her way to the counter, stopped to squeeze his arm and give a warm smile when he, confused, looked at her.

"Thanks, Bodhi," she said softly, allowing the smile to spread. "I'd forgotten, I'll keep it in mind for next time."

There was a light twitch at the corners of his eyes, of his mouth —the beginnings of a smile, Jyn hoped. The caf slopped into her mug and she cupped it into her hands, leaning onto the counter for support, while she sipped.

"And what's the best way to take them?" she asked then, figuring it would be best to not let time drag on.

The smile touched Bodhi's lips surely then, curling them upwards. Light seemed to flicker over his face, and the soft heave that he let out was sure intertwined with relief. He was about to explain where the droid had placed the med-kit with the meds, when slight clanking made them both turn to the doorway.

Cassian waved them hello with a timid raise of his hand, to then wipe his eye with its heel, he pressed his lips together to keep the yawn in, presumably. A drowsy wan smile flickered across his face, as he walked to the table with heavy steps. He accepted the cup of caf with a light bow of his head.

"You had a rough night too?" Bodhi asked the obvious.

Cassian made a sound that waved like a mixture of a sigh, a grunt and a hum all at once. Whatever it was, he pinched the bridge of his nose afterwards, breathing into his mug as if he could conjure the caffeine to pluck him out of his trance-like state. Jyn say the slight twitch of his shoulders squaring, tensing, underneath the light jacket.

"You could say that," he mumbled before gulping down the drink.

"Couldn't sleep?" Bodhi asked.

"Something like that," he answered, his voice dropping without warning.

Bodhi's eyes met hers for a flickering second, an unspoken concerned question rounding them slightly. Jyn pursed her lips, bowing her head slightly. Bodhi's lips twitched, more worry lines creasing their way onto his brow, he looked at Cassian again for a fleeting second. Jyn drew in a breath, bracing herself, but the next moment Bodhi was shaking his head as he retreated to the counter.

Jyn heard faint clanking as he fumbled into the steel jar, she figured treating unease with honey cookies was as good of a plan as any other, all things considering— yet, her eyes were fixed on Cassian who, outwardly unperturbed, sipped at his caf while staring at the grey wall in front of him.

She bit her lip, debating whether or not to ask him how his investigation was going when Bodhi was there. Not because of Bodhi, clearly, Bodhi knowing about it was not a hazard on his efforts, but—

Had he not kept it from them in the first place, Jyn would have been inclined to believe there was no issue with her asking.  Perhaps Cassian didn't want them all in in the news for the time being, though she considered it to be an impractical move, she had to respect his wishes.

"Did it work?" Cassian's voice plucked her out of her thoughts.

She blinked at him, furrowing her eyebrows.

He cleared his throat, tapping the duraplast handle.

"The bluemilk, I mean," he said, averting his gaze back to his drink.

"Yeah, it did," she said, almost stumbling over her words.

 _Thanks,_ she'd meant to add, but she could not force it out her mouth. She tried to convince herself it had nothing to do with recognising that small, shy and sheepish smile on his face.

Absolutely _not_.

She gulped her caf, thankful that the sudden burnt at her throat made her mind swerve from such ridiculous thoughts.

 

  "Any leads?"

Jyn spoke in a somewhat hushed voice, glancing up from her data-pad. She was supposed to be going through her vocabulary progress test, but she couldn't exactly focus on personality traits adjectives in Festian for the time being. Cassian fiddled with a flimsi, gaze focused on the lit screen to his left. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and he gave a quiet sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose for a split second.

He tapped his thumb on the table before issuing a hushed, "not really, not yet."

Jyn licked her lips, straightening in her seat. She didn't know how to help ease his frustration, and could only clear her throat and reach forward. Cassian's face screwed up when her fingers came into his field of vision, he looked up, confusion still wrinkling up his face.

"Why don't you—" she hesitated at first. There was something in his softening gaze that gave her the push to force the words out of her mouth, "why don't you tell the others? Maybe they can help," she argued, voice growing sharper with confidence. "Perhaps… Bodhi might have overheard something. Or maybe Baze or Chirrut, from the Imperials on Jedha."

"I doubt it," Cassian fought back, leaning back onto his seat. "These are all recent deployments. Nothing of the sort had taken place before—" he fell silent for a moment, holding her gaze, "before Endor."

 _Before Scarif,_ he'd clearly meant to say at first.

She curled her fingers into her palm, forced the sigh through her nose instead. He could be… pretty obstinate at times, and she was supposed to be the stubborn one of the team. All the retorts that flickered through her mind would have come across as extremely harsh, even confrontational. And that was the least thing she wanted if the purpose was to get Cassian to open up and trust the rest with this.

She lowered her gaze back to her data-pad, pressing her lips tightly together to keep herself from grunting. If Cassian had noticed her irritation at his attitude, he certainly didn't let it show on his face at all.

"What if they're building something else?" she blurted out.

He lifted his head so abruptly that Jyn might as well have slapped him. The slight rounding to his eyes had an edge of dread, her skin crawled at the plausibility of her theory. But she'd to be practical, the Empire had entire systems subjugated and their resources at their disposal. On top of that, they'd more than enough labour force —willing or otherwise— to carry out such endeavour. If they'd had an entire team developing a super-weapon, there could be others creating new horrors for their war effort.

"Or they might be trying to eliminate the Atrivis Resistance Group," she reasoned, trying to bring some sort of collected calmness to her voice. "Didn't you say they are one of the bigger threats to the Empire interests on the sector?"

Cassian nodded and his expression grew grim, gaze clouding. Her stomach clenched and her throat tightened; she wished she hadn't added that last bit. Cassian didn't say anything, just stared at the screen of his data-pad with vacant eyes for what seemed like an eternity before standing up. Every step he took to the counter seemed to pile up more weight on his shoulders. He flashed a small, almost imperceptible, smile in spite of it when he set a steaming mug before her.

"Is there anything of value they may be after?" Jyn asked, cupping the mug in her hands.

Just like they were after kyber on Jedha.

"You mean, besides phrik?" Cassian asked against his cup before taking a generous sip.

Jyn gave a short hum before tilting her mug. The scent of Kopi tea overwhelmed her senses.

"Not that I can think of," he said, resting on the durasteel wall.

Silence settled between them. The apprehension at the uncertainty seemed to itch underneath her skin.

"We could split," she said, suddenly, against the rim of her cup.

Cassian leant forward, quirking an eyebrow. Jyn held his gaze and gestured vaguely with her hand before bringing it to her mouth, muffling her nervous cough.

"Some of us could go to Atrivis… to Fest even, while the rest focuses on the recruitment mission for the Alliance," she offered, allowing her voice to strike an amused, hopeful tone.

Her stomach sank when, instead of seeing his face lit up, her suggestion was welcomed with a frown of pulled lips.

"That won't do," he said, and his tone was categorical. "For starters, I am the only one who knows Fest. I am not saying that they won't trust you, or Bodhi, Baze and Chirrut for that matter," he licked his lips, pausing for a moment. "I am saying they'll be… more receptive if it's me the one going."

Jyn was about to argue she could manage to convince them, when Cassian broke the fleeting silence again.

"And besides," and his chest heaved with what resembled a suppressed dry chuckle too much for her liking, "I am the only recruitment agent of the Alliance in the team, and so far I can't be in two places at once."

 A strange searing mixture of frustration and anger bubbled in her chest. She managed to swallow down the exasperated grunt, but before she could even stop herself the retort was already rolling out of her lips.

"I thought we'd agreed you don't have to do everything alone."

It came out way too harsh, like a packed punch. Cassian almost seemed to flinch at her voice, his eyes narrowed when his gaze met hers. One she held, with her chin up. In the blink of an eye there was no trace of frustration in his face, his lips drew tight into a snarl.

"That's not what I am saying here."

Jyn scoffed.

"Then _what_ are you saying?"

"I am saying that we can't split the team because your plan won't work."

Because that had clearly been a believable sensible explanation as to why he wasn't trying to shoulder everything on his own. Her lips thinned with irritation. She rolled her eyes, tapping the table briskly to keep herself from clenching her hand.

"Then what about my other suggestion?" she tried again, barely masking her grunt by clearing her throat. "Getting information from the cells we're supposed to recruit into the Alliance, even if they don’t agree to join," she'd tried to even her voice, soften it, but the emotions coursing through her were getting the best of her.

Cassian drew in a sharp breath.

"That has a better chance of working," he said, his shoulders shifting in what could be a shrug.

Jyn bit the rim of her tongue so as not to ask why.

"And we will be doing this together," she stated, "as a _team_ , won't we?"

Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He cleared his throat before answering a hushed, "of course."

His jaw was still set. His arms folded over his chest. There was an obvious edge of a glare to his eyes as he fixed his gaze on the opposite wall, avoiding eye contact. Jyn'd better leave it at that, let their anger cool off before any of them said anything stupid. Or anything they didn't truly mean.

"I am glad you won't be cutting us off, then," she couldn't help adding.

She regretted it the instant she heard the unmistakable sound of a chocked-back laugh.

"Well, isn't that rich?" he whispered.

Her data-pad clanked on the table. Loudly.

She blew through her nose, grinding her teeth, the anger quickly rising up inside her chest.

"Excuse me?" her voice going up several octaves.

This time, he held her gaze. "Nothing."  

A colourful set of epithets, in at least three different languages, flickered through her mind in that very instant. Instead of hurling them at him, she sneered. Then got up and stormed out of the room without saying another word.

There was no way the tautness on his face had softened when she walked out.

There was no way it was sadness what she had seen in his downcast eyes.

Her eyes stung and she struggled for breath. 

She was merely seeing things.

* * *

"You have to talk to Jyn Erso."

Cassian swore under his breath. Instead of answering Kay, he kept patching up the snapped wire, feeling the tension clinging further and further to his jaw.

Cassian sucked air between his teeth, mumbling another curse when the device didn't light to life again. Either he'd not fixed the short-circuit or there was something else going on. He wiped his hands on his trousers before lifting himself up, ignoring the droid's intent stare by rummaging through the box of data-chips, looking for the one on the Cryoncorp portable scanner.

"She seemed most distressed after your debate at the galley," Kaytu said, stressing his point with a soft whir that might as well be the droid equivalent of a frustrated sigh.

Cassian slid the chip into the data-pad slot and clenched his teeth to keep himself from snapping at Kay. He'd been beating himself up about his reaction enough for the past two hours, he didn't quite exactly need his friend's reminder.

Why he'd reacted like he did kept haunting his mind. He'd pinned it on stress at first, but soon it became obvious to him that wasn't the case, at least not entirely. He had been under much more nerve-wracking circumstances on more than one occasion, including while working undercover and with someone else, and never had he responded like that to a suggestion.

He tried to convince himself he'd been reluctant to accept Jyn's proposition for the very same reasons he'd defended his stance with then, but he hadn't even reflected upon it for too long before dismissing her plan. Even if none of them had any previous experience with recruiting, had it been sensible to not consider the possibility? They might have worked out a way for that course of action to prove fruitful—  

"I reckon these disputes are a natural feature of organics socialization," Kay broke the silence again. "But it is out of genuine concern for our missions' success that I must insist on you talking with Jyn Erso."

 _Not now, Kay,_ in came the intrusive thought, tugging at his tongue. But he merely sighed and clamped his lips together. He would have to talk with Jyn, sooner than later, to apologise for snapping, for a rudeness she didn't deserve when all she was trying to do was helping him. But he couldn't do so now, he still hadn't… exactly contemplated _what_ to say, much less had pondered on the _how_.

"It's not that simple, Kay," he settled in for saying, before the droid could add any more tension to his already stressed nerves.

"As far as I can tell, your physiological attributes to engage in oral conversation have yet not been compromised," Kay reasoned, while running calculations on only stars knew what this time. "The task at hand is feasible for both of—"

"That’s not the problem."

"Then there is no real problem," Kay insisted and Cassian had to bite his tongue to keep himself from answering that. "You're merely letting your emotions get in the way of your duties for the Alliance."

His stomach knotted up because, after all and deep down, he knew Kay was right.

"You have never showed this kind of malfunctioning before, Cassian—"

Cassian couldn't hear the rest of Kay's assessment. The sound of an incoming distress signal cut across the droid's words. It was coming from Generis.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being much angstier than I had initially anticipated, so apologies for that. I had to show their increasing vulnerability around each other, and how Cassian reacts, unconsciously and not, to that change between them. Thank you a lot for reading, I am sorry the update took so long, though I hope you've enjoyed it!


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